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A NEW NOVEL BY THE AUTHOR OF 

**THE SILENCE OF DEAN MAITLAND.** 


Now Ready, in the January Number of 

THE NEW YORK FASHION BAZAR, 

A NEW STORY, ENTITLED 

“THE REPROACH OF RNNESLEY." 

BY MAXWELL GRAY, 

Author op “The Silence op Dean Maitland,” etc. 


“The Silence of Dean Maitland,” published in The Seaside Library, has 
proved one of the most popular novels of the past year. Next to “ Robert 
Elsmere,” it has won the favor of the best judges. A new story by the same 
author will be eagerly read. 


The January Fashion Bazar contains the continuation of a romantic 

novel, entitled 

“GUELDA.” 

This is a story of rich, aristocratic and fashion.able life in the highest circle 
of society. It is a story that will interest all readers. 

ALSO THE THIRD INSTALLMENT OF 

“SUZANNE.” 

By the author of “A Great Mistake,” etc. A fresh and fascinating novel 
of life in Rome and Naples. 

INTERESTING ARTICLES ON 

Domestic and HooseRold Affairs, Manners, and Fashions, 

By MRS. MARY E. BRYAN, 

MRS. MARY STUART SMITH, 

MRS. N. S. STOWELL, and others. 

The New York Fashion Bazar for Januaty is a complete repository of 
modes and styles for the winter. It contains all that is new and fashionable 
in the dresses of ladies and children for the present season. The colored 
plates of new children's fashions given on the cover of the magazine are 
particularly' interesting this month. 


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be sent, postage prepaid, for 25 cents per single copy. The subscrlptlou price is 
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GEORGE MUNRO. Miinro’s Piiblisiiiog House, 
yP. O. Box 3751.) i? to Vandewater Street, New York. 


MUNRO'S RUBLICATIOKS, 


The New York Fashion Bazar Book of the Toilet. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 

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and body, that detract from appearance and happiness, are made the sub- 
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tations to dinners, evening parties and entertainments of all descriptions; 
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For sale by all newsdealers, or sent by mail to any address on receipt of 
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of condolence and duty, widows’ and widowers’ letters, love letters for all 
occasions, proposals of marriage, letters between betrothed lovers, letters of 
a young girl to her sweetheart, correspondence relating to household man- 
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For sale by all newsdealers, or sent by mail to any address, postage paid* 
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(P. O. Box 3751.) 


COMMODORE JUNK 


BY 

G. MANVILLE FENN. 



NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 37 Vandewatkr Street. 


G. MANVILLE FENN^S WOEKS 


CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION): 


NO. 

193 The Rosery Folk. 

558 Poverty Corner. 

687 The Parson o’ Dumford. 


NO. 

609 The Dark House. 
1169 Commodore Junk.. 


f 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


CHAPTER I. 

DOWN IN DEVON. 

Then you^re a villain!"^ 

“ Nonsense, Mary; be reasonable.^' 

‘‘ Reasonable, Captain Armstrong? I am reasonable, and I 
am telling you the truth. You are a villain!" 

“ Why, you foolish girl, what did you expect?" 

‘‘ That you would be an officer and a gentleman. Once 
more, is it true that you are going to be married to that lady?" 

“ Well, you see—" 

“ Answer me, sir." 

‘‘ Oh, well, then, yes, I suppose I am." 

“ Then I repeat it, James Armstrong, you are a villain!" 

“ What nonsense, you fierce-looking, handsome termagant! 
We have had our little pleasant chats and meetings, and now 
weTl say good-bye pleasantly, I can't help it, I have to marry; 
so you go and do the same, my dear, and ITl buy you a hand- 
some wedding-dress." 

“You cowardly, cold-blooded villain!" 

“ Come, come, my good girl; no more strong words, please. 
Don't spoil a pleasant little intimacy by a vulgar quarrel. " 

“ Pleasant little intimacy!" 

“ Why, what did you expect?" 

“ That you were wooing me to be your wife." 

“A captain in the king's navy marry the daughter of an old 
wrecker, the sister of as utter a smuggling scoundrel as can be 
found about this port to Dartmouth!" 

“ When a girl gives her heart to the man who comes to her 
all soft words and smiles, do you think she remembers what 
he is? It is enough for her that she loves him, and she be- 
lieves all he says. Oh, James, dear James! forgive me all 
I've said, and don't send me adrift like this. Tell me it isn't 
true." 

“ There, that's enough. You knew as well as I did that 


6 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


there was nothing serious meant, so now let^s bring this meet- 
ing to an end.^^ 

“ To an end?^^ 

“ Yes; you had no business to come here. But, as you 
have come, there are five guineas, Mary, to buy finery; and 
let^s shake hands and say good-bye. 

Captain Armstrong, a handsome man with a rather cruel- 
looking, thin-lipped mouth, took five golden pieces from his 
great, flapped, salt-box-pocketed waistcoat, gave the flowing 
curls of his wig a shake, and held out the money to the dark, 
black-eyed woman standing before him with her sun-browned 
cheeks slightly flushed, her full, red lips quivering, and a look 
of fierce passion distorting her handsome gypsy countenance, 
as she held out a well-shaded hand for the money. 

‘‘ Come, that’s right, Mary,^’ said the captain. ‘‘ You are 
going to be reasonable then. One, two, three, four, five — 
well, yes. I’ll give you another guinea for being so good — six.” 

As he spoke he dropped the golden coins one by one into 
the woman’s hand, smiled, glanced quickly at a door behind 
him, and caught her in his arms. 

‘‘ There, one more kiss from those ripe red lips, and then — ” 

Spank ! 

As sharp a back-handed blow across the face as ever man re- 
ceived from an angry woman, «,nd then, as the recipient in- 
voluntarily started back, Mary Dell flung the golden pieces at 
him, so that one struck him in the chest and the others flew 
tinkling across the room. 

“ Curse you!” cried the captain, in a low, savage voice, 
“ this is too much. Leave this house, you low-bred shrew, 
and if you ever dare to come here again — ” 

“ Dare!” cried the woman as fiercely. “ I dare anything. 
I’ve not been a sailor’s child for nothing. And so you think 
that a woman’s love is to be bought and sold for a few paltry 
guineas, and that you can play with and throw me off as you 
please. Look here, James Armstrong, I wouldn’t marry you 
now if you prayed me to be your wife — wife to such a cruel, 
mean coward! Faugh! I would sooner leap overboard some 
night and die in the deepest part of the harbor. ’ ’ 

“ Leave this house, you vixen.” 

“ Not at your bidding, captain,” cried the girl, scornfully. 
/‘Captain! Why, the commonest sailor in the king’s ships 
would shame to behave to a woman as you have behaved to 
me. But I warn you,” she continued, as in her excitement 
her luxuriant glossy black hair escaped from its comb and fell 
rippling down in masses I warn you, that if you go to 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


church with that lady, who can not know you as 1 do, 1^11 
never forgive you, but have such a revenge as shall make you 
rue the day that you were born/'’ 

“ Silence, woman; I\e borne enough! Leave this house 

“ You thought because I was fatherless and motherless that 
1 should be an easy prey; but you were wrong. Captain Arm- 
strong; you were wrong. I am a woman, but not the weak, 
helpless thing you believed. 

“ Leave my house!” 

‘‘ When I have told you all I think and feel, James Arm- 
strong.” 

Leave my house, woman!” 

“ Do you. think you can frighten me by your loud voice and 
threatening looks?” said the girl, scornfully. 

Leave my house!” cried the captain for the third time, 
furiously; and, glancing through the window as he spoke, he 
changed color at the sight of a gray-haired gentleman ap- 
proaching with a tall, graceful woman upon his arAi. 

Ah!” cried Mary Dell, as she read his excitement aright; 
“ so that is the woman! Then ITl stop and meet her face to 
face, and tell her what a contemptible creature she is going to 
wed. ” 

” Curse you, leave this house!” cried the captain, in a sav- 
age whisper; and catching his visitor roughly by the shoulder, 
he tried to pull her toward the door; but the girl resisted, and 
in the struggle a chair was overturned with a crash, the door 
was flung open, and a bluff, manly voice exclaimed: 

“ Why, halloo! what^s the matter now?” 

‘‘ Wha/s that to you?” cried the captain, angrily, as he de- 
sisted from his efforts, and the girl stood disheveled and pant- 
ing, her eyes flashing vindictively, and a look of gratified 
malice crossing her face, as she saw the confusion and arnioy- 
ance displayed by her ex-lover. 

‘‘ What is it to me? Why, I thought there was trouble on, 
and I came to help. ” 

“ To intrude where you were not wanted, you mean. Now 
go,” snarled the captain. 

“ No, don’t go,” cried the girl, spitefully. “ I want you 
to protect me, sir, from this man, this gentleman, who pro- 
fessed to love me, and who, now that he is going to be married, 
treats me as you see. ” 

” If's a lie, woman!” cried the captain, who noted that the 
couple whose coming had made him lower his voice had now 
passed after looking up at the window, and who now turned 
again fiercely upon the woman. 


8 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


No, it isn^t a lie, said the new-comer. IVe seen 

you on the beach with her many a time, and. thought what a 
blackguard you were/^ 

Lieutenant Armstrong, I am your superior officer,” cried 
the captain. “ How dare you speak to me like that! Sir, 
you go into arrest for this speech.'’^ 

“1 was not addressing my superior officer,” said the new- 
comer, flushing slightly, “ but my cousin Jem. Put me in 
arrest, will you? Very well, my fine fellow; yoiPre captain, 
I^’m lieutenant, and I must obey; but if you do, next time 
we '’re ashore I ’ll thrash you within an inch of your life as sure 
as my name's Humphrey. Hang it. I'll do it nOw!" 

He took a quick step forward; but the captain darted behind 
the table, and Mary caught the young man's arm. 

“No, no, sir,” she said in a deep voice; “ don't get your- 
self into trouble for me. It's very true and gallant of you, 
sir, to teke the part of a poor girl; but I can fight my own 
battle against such a coward as that. Look at him, with his 
pale face and white lips, and tell me how I could ever have 
loved such a creature. ” 

“ Woman — ” 

“Yes, woman now,” cried the girl. “A month ago no 
word was too sweet and tender for me. There, I'm going, 
James Armstrong, and I wish you joy of your rich wife — the 
pale, thin creature I saw go by; but don't think you are done 
with me, or that this is to be forgotten. As for you, sir,” she 
continued, holding out her hand, which her defender took, and 
smiled down frankly in the handsome dark face before him, 
“ I sha'n't forget this.” 

“ No,” said Captain Armstrong, with a sneer. “ Lose one 
lover, pick up another. She's a nice girl, Humphrey, and it's 
your turn now.” 

Mary Dell did not loose the hand she had seized, but darted 
a bitterly contemptuous look upon her late lover, which made 
him grind his teeth as she turned from him again to the lieu- 
tenant. 

“ Was I not right, sir, to say he is a coward? I am only a 
poor-class girl, but I am a woman, and I can feel. Thank 
you, sir; good-bye, and if we never meet again, think that I 
shall always be grateful for what you have said.” 

At that minute there were voices heard without, and the 
captain started and looked nervously at the door. 

“ I'm going, James Armstrong,” said the girl; “ and I 
might go like this; but for my own sake, not for yours, I'll 
not.” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


9 


She gave her head a sidewise jerk which brought her mag- 
nificent black hair over her left shoulder, and then with a few 
rapid turns of her hands she twisted it into a coil and secured 
it at the back of her head. 

Then turning to go, Humphrey took a step after her; but 
she looked at him with a sharp, suspicious gaze. 

“ He told you to see me off the place she said, quickly. 

“ Ho,^^ cried Humphrey; “ it was niy own idea.’"’ 

“.Let me go alone, said tjie girl. “ I want to think there 
is soihe one belonging to him who is not base. Good-bye, sir! 
Perhaps we may meet again. 

“ Meet again snarled the captain as the girl passed through 
the door- way. “ Yes, 1^11 warrant me you will, and console 
yourself with your new lover, you jade.^^ 

“ Look here, Jem,^^ cried the lieutenant, hotly; “ officer or 
no officer, recollect that weh’e alone now, and that you are in- 
sulting me as well as that poor girl. Now, then, you say an- 
other word like that, and hang me if I don’t nearly break your 

nppk 

“ You insolent-” 

Captain Armstrong did not finish his sentence, for there was 
a something in the frank, handsome, manly face of his cousin 
that meant mischief, and he threw himself into a chair with an 
angry snarl, such as might be given by a dog who wanted to 
attack but did not dare. 


CHAPTER II. 

AT THE COTTAGE. 

“ What’s she a-doing of now?” 

“ Blubbering.” 

“ Why, that’s what you said yesterday. She ar’n’t been 
a-blubbering ever since?” 

“ Yes, she have, Bart; and the day afore, and the day afore 
that. She’s done nothing else. ” 

“ I hates to see a woman cry,” said the first speaker in a 
low, surly growl, as he wrinkled his forehead all over and 
seated himself on the edge of a three-legged table in the low- 
ceiled cottage of old Dell, the smuggler — a roughly built place 
at the head of one of the lonely coves on the South Devon 
coast. The place was rough, for it had been built at different 
times of wreck wood which had come ashore; but the dwelling 
was picturesque outside, and quaint, nautical, and deliciously 
clean within, where Abel Dell, Mary’s twin-brother, a short, 
dark young fellow, singularly like his sister, sat upon an old 


10 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


sea-chest fashioning a netting-needle with a big clasp-knife, 
and his brow was also covered with the lines of trouble. 

He was a good-looking, sun-browned little fellow; and as he 
sat there in his big fisher-boots thrust down nearly to the 
ankle, and a scarlet worsted cap upon his black, crisp curls, 
his canvas petticoat and blue shirt made him a study of which 
a modern artist would have been glad; but in the early days 
of King George the First gentlemen of the palette and brush 
did not set up white umbrellas in sheltered coves and turn the 
inhabitants into models, so Abel Dell had not been transferred 
to canvas, and went on carving his hard- wood needle without 
looking up at the man called Bart. 

There was not much lost, for Bartholomew Wrigley, at the 
age of thirty — wrecker, smuggler, fisherman, sea-dog, any- 
thing by turn — was . about as ugly an athletic specimen of 
humanity as ever stepped. Nature and his ancestors had been 
very unkind to him in the way of features, and accidents by 
flood and fight had marred what required no disfigurement, a 
fall of a spar having knocked his nose sidewise and broken the 
bridge, while a chojD from a sword in a smuggling affray had 
given him a divided upper lip. In addition he always wore 
the appearance of being ashamed of his height, and went about 
with a slouch that was by no means an attraction to the fisher- 
girls of the place. 

“Ay! If the old man had been alive — 

“ ^ Stead o^ drowned off Plymouth Hoo,-’^ growled Bart. 

“In the big storm, continued Abel, “Polly would have 
had to swab them eyes of hern.^^ 

“Ay! And if the old man had been alive, that snapper- 
dandy captain, with his boots and sword, would have had to 
sheer off, Abel, lad. 

“ "Stead o" coming jerry-sneaking about her when we was 
at sea, eh, Bart?"" 

“ Them’s true words,"" growled the big, ugly fellow. 

Then, after a pause: 

“ I hate to see a woman cry."" 

“ So do I, mate. Makes the place dull. "" 

There was a pause, during which Abel carved away diligent- 
ly, and Bart watched him intently, with his hands deep in his 
pockets. 

“ It"s all off, ar"n"t it, mate?"" said Bart at last. 

“ Ay, it"s all off,"" said Abel; and there was another pause. 

“ Think there’d be any chance for a man now?’" 

Abel looked up at his visitor, who took off the rough, flat 
fur cap he wore, as if to show himself to better advantage; 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


11 


and after breathing on one rough, gnarled hand, he drew it 
down over his hair, smoothing it across his brow; but the re- 
sult was not happy, and he seemed to feel it as the wood- 
carver shook his head and went on with his work. 

“ S’pose not,^'’ said the looker-on with a sigh. “You see,^ 
I’m such a hugly one, Abel, lad.” 

“You are, Bart. There’s no denying of it, mate; you 
are. ” 

“Ay! A reg’lar right-down hugly one. But I thought as 
p’r’aps now as her heart were soft and sore, she might feel a 
little torst a man whose heart also was very soft and sore.” 

“ Try her, then, mate. ITl go and tell her you’re here.” 

“ Nay, nay, don’t do that, man,” whispered the big fellow, 
hoarsely. “ I durstent ask her again. It’ll have to come 
from her this time.” 

“ Not it. Ask her, Bart. She likes you.” 

“ Ay, she likes me, bless her, and she’s alius got a kind 
word for a fellow as wishes a’most as he. was her dog. ” 

“ What’s the good o’ that, lad? Better be her man.” 

“Ay, of course; but if you can’t be her man, why not be 
her dog? She would pat your head and pull your ears; but I 
alius feels as if she’d never pat my head or pull my ears, Abel, 
lad; you see. I’m such a hugly one. Blubbering, eh?” 

“ Does nothing else. She don’t let me see it; but I know. 
She don’t sleep of a night, and she looks wild and queer, as 
Sanderson’s lass did who drowned herself.” 

“ Then he has behaved very bad to her, Abel?” 

“ Ay, lad. I wish I had hold of him. I’d like to break his 
neck.” 

Bart put on his cap quickly, glanced toward the inner room, 
where there was a sound as of some one singing mournfully, 
and then in a quick, low whisper: 

• “ Why not, lad?” said he; “ why not?” 

“ Break his neck, Bart?” 

The big fellow nodded. 

“ Will you join in and risk it?” 

“ Won’t I?” 

“ Then we will,” said Abel. “ Curse him, he’s most broke 
her heart.” 

’Cause she loves him,” growled Bart, thoughtfully. 

“ Yes, a silly soft thing. She might have known.” 

“ Then we mustn’t break his neck, Abel, lad,” said Bart, 
shaking his head. Then, as if a bright thought had suddenly 
flashed across his brain: “Look here. We’ll wait for him. 


12 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


and then — I aren't afeard of his sword — we^ll make him marry 
her.^^ 

“You don^t want him to marry her/^ said Abel, staring, 
and utilizing the time by strapping his knife on his boot. 

“Nay, I don’t; but she do, poor lass,” said Bart, with a 
sigh, “ and if I can do what she wants, I will as long as I 
live. ” 

“Ah! you always was fond of her, Bart,” said Abel, slowly. 

“ Ay, I always was, and always shall be, my lad. But look 
here,” whispered Bart, leaning toward his companion, “ if he 
says he won’t marrydier — ” 

“Ah! suppose he says he won’t?” said Abel to fill up a 
pause, for Bart stood staring at him. 

“ If he says he won’t, and goes and marries that fine ma- 
dame — will you do it?” 

“ I’ll do anything you’ll do, mate,” said Abel, in a low 
voice. 

“ Then we’ll make him, my lad.” 

“ Hist!” whispered Abel, as the inner door opened, and 
Mary entered the room, looking haggard and wild, to gaze 
sharply from one to the other, as if she suspected that they had 
been making her the subject of their conversation. 

“How do, Mary?” said Bart, in a consciously awkward 
fashion. 

“ Ah, Bart!” she said, coldly, as she gazed full in his eyes 
till he dropped his own and moved toward the door. 

“ I’m just going to have a look at my boat, Abel, lad,” he 
said. “ Coming down the shore?” 

Abel nodded, and Bart shuffled out of the door- way, utter- 
ing a sigh of relief as soon as he was in the open air, and tak- 
ing off his fiat fur cap, he wiped the drops of perspiration from 
his brow. 

“ She’s too much for me, somehow,” he muttered, as he 
sauntered down toward the shore. “ I alius thought as being 
in love with a gell would be very nice, but it ar’n’t. She’s too 
much for me. ” 

“ AVhat were you and Bart Wrigley talking about?” said 
Mary Dell, as soon as she was alone, with her brother. 

“You,” said Abel, going on scraping his netting-needle. 

“ "What about me?” 

“ All sorts o’ things.” 

“ What do you mean?” 

“ What do I mean? Why, you know. About your being a 
fool — about the fine captain and his new sweetheart. Why, 
you might ha’ knowed, Mary.” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


13 


“ Look here, Abel/' cried Mary, catching him by the wrist, 
and dragging at it so that he started to his feet and they stood 
face to face, the stunted brother and the well-grown girl won- 
derfully equal in size, and extremely alike in physique and air, 
“ if you dare to talk to me again like that, we shall quarrel." 

“ Well, let's quarrel, then."' 

“ What!" cried Mary, starting, for this was a new phase in 
her brother's character. 

“ I say, let's quarrel, then," cried Abel, folding his arms. 
“ Do you think I've been blind? Do you think 1 haven't seen 
what's been going on, and how that man has served you? 
Why, it has nearly broken poor old Bart's heart." 

“Abel!" 

“I don't care, Polly, I will speak now. You don't like 
Bart." 

“ I do. He is a good true fellow as ever stepped, but — " 

“ Yes, 1 know. It ar'n't nat'ral for you to like him as he 
likes you; but you've been a fool, Polly, to listen to that fine 
jack-a-dandy, and — curse him! I'll half kill him next time we 
meet!" 

Mary tried to speak, but her emotion choked her. 

“ You — you don't know what you are saying," she panted 
at last. 

“ Perhaps not," he said, in a low, muttering way; “ but I 
know what I'm going to do. " 

“ Do!" she cried, recovering herself, and making an effort 
to regain her old ascendency over her brother. “ I forbid you 
to do anything. You shall not interfere." 

“ Very well," said the young man, with a smile; and as his 
sister gained strength he seemed to be subdued. 

“ Nothing, I say. Any quarrel I may have with Captain 
Armstrong is my affair, and I can fight my own battle. Do 
you hear?" 

“Yes, I hear," said Abel, going toward the door. 

“ You understand? I forbid it. You shall not even speak 
to him." 

“ Yes, I understand," said Abel, tucking the netting-needle 
into his pocket, and thrusting his knife into its sheath; and 
then, before Mary could call up sufficient energy to speak 
again, the young *maii passed out of the cottage and hurried 
after Bart. 

Mary went to the little casement and stood gazing after him 
thoughtfully for a few minutes, till he passed out of her sight 
among the rocks on his way to where the boat lay. 

“ No," she said, softly; “ he would not dare!" 


14 


COMMODOEE JUITK. 


Then turning and taking the seat her brother had vacated, 
a desolate look of misery came over her handsome face, which 
drooped slowly into her hands, and she sat there weeping 
silently as she thought of the wedding that was to take place 
the next day. 


CHAPTER III. 

AT THE CHURCH DOOR. 

Captain James Armstrong had a few more words with 
his cousin, Lieutenant Humphrey, aneut his marriage. 

“Perhaps you would like me to marry that girl off the 
beach, he said, “ Mr. Morality 

“ I donT profess to be a pattern of morality, cousin, re- 
plied the lieutenant, shortly. 

“ And donT like pretty girls, of course,^^ sneered the cap- 
tain. “ Sailors never do. 

“ I suppose I^m a man, Jem,'^ said Humphrey, “ and like 
pretty girls; but I hope I should never be such a scoundrel as 
to make a girl miserable by professing to care for her, and 
then throwing her away like a broken toy.""^ 

“ Scoundrel, eh?^^ said the captain, hotly. 

“Yes. Scoundrel — confounded scoundrel!^^ retorted the 
lieutenant. “ WeYe ashore now, and discipline's nowhere, 
my good cousin, so donT ruffle up your hackles and set up 
your comb and pretend you are going to peck, for you are as 
great a coward now, Jem, as you were when 1 was a little 
school-boy and you were the big tyrant and sneak. 

“ You shall pay for this, sir!^^ cried the captain. 

“Pish! Now, my good cousin, you are not a fool. You 
know 1 am not in the least afraid of you."*^ 

“ 1^11 make you some day,^’ said the captain, bitterly. 
“You shall smart for all this.’’^ 

“ Not 1. It is you who will smart. There, go and marry 
your rich wife, and much happiness may you get out of the 
match! I^’m only troubled about one thing, and that is 
whether it is not my duty to tell the lady — poor creature! — 
what a blackguard she is going to wed.^^ 

Captain James Armstrong altered the sit of his cocked hat, 
brushed some imaginary specks off his new uniform, and 
turned his back upon his cousin, ignoring the extended hand. 
But he did as he was told— he went and was duly married. 
Lieutenant Humphrey being present, and walking close be- 
hind, to see just outside the church door the flashing eyes and 
knitted brow of Mary Dell on one side; while beyond lier, but 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


15 


unseki by Humphrey, were her brother Abel, and Bart, who 
stood with folded arms and a melodramatic scowl upon his 
ugly face. 

“ She^s going to make a scene, thought Humphrey; and, 
pushing before the bride and bridegroom, he interposed, from 
a feeling of loyalty to the former, perhaps from a little of the 
same virtue toward a member of his family. 

Mary looked up at him, at first in surprise, and then she 
smiled bitterly. 

“ Don^t be alarmed, sir,^^ she said, coldly. ‘‘ I only came 
to see the captain’s wife.” 

” Poor lass!” muttered the lieutenant, as he saw Mary draw 
back among the people gathered together. ‘‘ She seemed to 
read me like a book.” 

He caught one more sight of Mary Dell standing at a dis- 
tance, holding her brother’s arm, as the captain entered the 
heavy, lumbering coach at the church gate. Then she disap- 
peared, the crowd melted away, and the bells rang a merry 
peal, the ringers’ muscles having been loosened with ale; and 
as the bride and bridegroom went off to the lady’s home at an 
old hall near Slapton Lea, Mary returned slowly to the cottage 
down in the little cove, and Humphrey went to the wedding- 
breakfast, and afterward to his ship. • 


CHAPTER IV. 

A MONTH LATER. 

About a month after the marriage Captain James Arm- 
strong was returning one night on horseback from Dartmouth 
to the home of his wife’s family, where he was sojourning prior 
to setting off upon a long voyage, it having been decided that 
the young couple should not set up in housekeeping till his re- 
turn from sea, so that the lady might have home companion- 
ship during his absence. 

He had been to the principal inn to dine with some officers 
whose vessels had just touched there from Falmouth, and 
Humphrey, who had been present, had felt some doubt about 
letting him go home alone. 

“ You’ve had too much punch, Jem,” he said. “ Sleep 
here to-night, and don’t let your young wife see you in that 
state.” 

“ You’re a fool,” was the surly reply. 

You can get a good bed here, and ride home in the morn- 
ing, ” said Humphrey, quietly. “ You had better stay.” 

“ Mind your own business, upstart,” cried the captain; and 


16 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


ordering his horse, he mounted and set off with a lurch, first 
on one side, and then on the other, each threatening to send 
him out of the saddle. 

“ Hefil be all right, Armstrong,^^ said a jovial-looking offi- 
cer, laughing. “ Come and have another glass. By the time 
he is at the top of the long hill he will be sober as a judge. 

‘‘Perhaps so,” said Humphrey, aloud. Then to himself, 
“ 1 doiPt half like it, though. The road^s bad, and 1 shouldn’t 
care for anything to happen to him, even if it is to make me 
heir to the estate. I wish I had not let him go.” 

He returned to the room where the officers had commenced 
a fresh bowl of punch, for they had no longer journey before 
them than upstairs to their rooms, and there were plenty of 
servants to see them safely into bed, as was the custom in deal- 
ing with the topers of that day. 

“ I’ve done wrong,” said Humphrey Armstrong, after par- 
taking of one glass of punch and smoking a single pipe of 
tobacco from a tiny bowl of Dutch ware. “ He was not fit to 
go home alone.” 

He said this to himself as an officer was trolling forth an 
anacreontic song. 

“ It’s a long walk, but I shall not feel comfortable unless I 
see whether he has got home safely; and it will clear away the 
fumes of the liquor. Here goes.” 

He slipped out of the room, and, taking a stout stick which 
was the companion of his hat, he started forth into the cool 
night air, and walked sturdily away in the direction of his 
cousin’s house. 

About half an hour later the drowsy groom, who was sitting 
up for the captain’s return, rose with a sigh of satisfaction, 
for he heard the clattering of hoofs in the stable-yard. 

“ At last!” he cried; and, taking a lighted lantern, he hur- 
ried out, to stand in dismay staring at the empty saddle, which 
had been dragged round under the horse’s belly, and at the 
trembling animal, breathing hard and shaking its head. 

“ Why, she’s all of a muck,” muttered the man; “ and the 
captain ar’n’t on her. He be fallen off, I’d zwear. ” 

The man stood staring for a few minutes, while the horse 
pawed impatiently, as if asking to be admitted to its stable. 
Then he opened the door, the weary beast went in, and the 
man stood staring with true Devon stolidity before he be- 
thought him of the necessity for removing the saddle from its 
awkward position. 

This seen to, it suddenly occurred to him that something 


COMMODORE JUNK. 17 

ought to be done about the captain, and he roused up the 
coachman to spread the alarm in the house. 

“ Nay, we^ll only scare the poor ladies to death,^^ said the 
Jehu of the establishment, gray hairs having brought him wis- 
dom. “ Let’s zee virst, lad, if there be anything really bad. 
If he be droonk and vailed off, he won’t thank us for telling 
his wife. Zaddle the dwo coach-horses, Ridgard, and we’ll 
ride to town and zee.” 

The horses were quickly saddled, and the two men-servants 
trotted along the Dartmouth road till about half-way, where, 
in one of the gloomiest parts, their horses began to snort and 
exhibit signs of fear, and as they drew up a voice shouted: 

‘‘Here! Who’s that? Help!” 

“ Why, it bej. Mr. Humphrey,” said the old coachman; and 
dismounting he gave his rein to his co^ipanion, and ran for- 
ward. “ What be wrong, zir?” 

“ The captain. Much hurt,” was the reply. 

“ I thought zo, zir. His horse corned home without him. 
He’s been thro wed — or pulled off,” he added to himself. 

“ It’s something worse, I’m afraid. Here, help me, and 
let’s get him home. ” 

The old coachman lent his aid, and with some difficulty the 
captain was placed across one of the horses, the lieutenant 
mounting to hold him on and support him, while the two serv- 
ants followed slowly behind. 

“ Pulled off?” whispered the groom. 

“ Mebbe,” said the old coachman; and then to himself, 
“ Looks bad for Mr. Humphrey; and if he died, what should 
I zay to them as asked how I found ’em?” 

The old man walked slowly on for half an hour before he 
answered his mental question, and his answer was: 

“ They’d make me dell ’em the truth, and it might bring 
Mr. Humphrey to the gallows; and if it did, it would be all 
through me. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER V. 

A KEEN ENCOUNTER. 

The prognostications of his fellow-officer did not prove true, 
for Captain Armstrong, instead of being sobered by the ride 
up the hill, grew more drunken. The fresh air blown straight 
from the ocean seemed to dizzy his muddled brain, and when 
he rode down the hill he was more drunken than ever, and 
rolled about in his saddle like his ship in a storm. 

This seemed to amuse the captain, and he talked and 


18 


COMMODORE JITITK. 


chuckled to himself, sung snatches of songs, and woke the 
echoes' of the little village street at the top of the next hill, 
where the tall, square church tower stood up wind-swept and 
dreamy to show mariners the way to Dartmouth harbor. 

Then came a Jong ride along a very shelf of a road, where it 
seemed as if a false step on the part of his horse would send 
both rolling down the declivity to the edge of the sheer rocks, 
where they w'fiuld fall headlong to the fine shingle below. 

But drunken men seem favorites with their horses, for when 
Oaf)tain Armstrong lurched to starboard his nag gave a hitch 
to keep him in the saddle, and when he gave another lurch to 
larboard the horse was ready for him again — all of which 
amused the captain more and more, and he chuckled aloud, 
and sung, and swore at his cousin for a cold, fishy, sneaking 
hound. - 

“ He’d like to see me die, and get the estate,” he said; 

but ITl live to a hundred, and leave half a score of boys to 
inherit, and he sha’n’t get a groat, a miserable, sanctified dog- 
fish. Steady, mare, steady!' Bah, how thirsty 1 am! Wish 
I’d had another drop.” 

He kicked his horse’s ribs, and the docile creature broke into 
a gentle amble, but only to be checked sharply. 

“ Wo — ho, mare!” cried the captain, shaking his head, for 
he was dizzy now, and the dimly seen trees sailed slowly round. 
“ Wind’s changing,” he said; “ steady, old lass! Walk.” 

The mare walked, and the captain grew more confused in 
his intellect; while the night became darker, soft clouds roll- 
ing slowly over the star-spangled sky. 

The ride was certainly not sobering James Armstrong, and 
he knew it, for he suddenly burst into a chuckling laugh. 

I know what she’ll say,” he said. “ Ladyship will ride 
the high horse. Let her. I can ride the high horse, too — 
steady, mare! What’s the matter Avith you?” 

He had been descending into a narrow pass where the road 
had been cut down in the hill-side, leaving a high, well-wooded 
bank on either hand, and here it was far more dark than out 
in the open, and the mare, after walking steadily on for some 
distance with her well-shod hoofs clinking upon the loose 
stones, suddenly shied, stopped short, and snorted. 

‘^What’s the matter with you, stupid? Can’t you stand 
straight?” cried the captain, striking the beast angrily with 
his heels. ‘‘Goon.” 

The horse, however, backed and SAverved from side to side, 
making as if to turn sharply and gallop back to Dartmouth; 
but just at that moment there Avas a rustling sound heard 


COMMODOEE JUKK. 19 

overhead, where the rough bushes fringed the bank, and 
directly after a rush and the sound of some one leaping down 
into the lane between the captain and the town. 

This had the effect of startling the horse more and more, 
but instead of making now for the way by which they had 
come, it willingly obeyed the touch of the rider's spur, and 
continued its journey for half a dozen yards. Then it stopped 
short once again, for a dark figure leaped down into the lane 
just in front, and the captain found himself hemmed in. 

And now, for the first time, he began to feel sobered as he 
took in the position. He had been attacked by highwaymen 
without a doubt, and unless he chose to do battle for his watch 
and money, his only chance of escape was to force his horse to 
mount the precipitous side of the lane. 

Without a moment's hesitation he dragged at the oiff-rein, 
drove the spurs into the beast's fianks, and forced her to the 
leap; but it was poorly responded to. The half leap resulted 
in the mare gaining a footing a few feet up, and then scram- 
bling back into the lane as the captain's two assailants 
closed in. 

“ Stand back, you scoundrels!" roared the captain. “ Curse 
you! I'll blow your brains out. " 

A mocking laugh was the response, and as he dragged at 
the holster a smart blow from a cudgel fell upon his hand, 
making him utter a yell of pain. The next moment one of 
the men had leaped up behii;d him and clasped his arms to his 
side, and in the struggle which ensued both came down off the 
horse, which uttered a loud snort of fear and dashed off at a 
gallop down the hill for home, while, nerved to action now by 
his position and stung by the blows he had received from his 
assailant, the captain wrested himself free and dragged his 
sword from its sheath. 

He had hardly raised it in the air when a tremendous blow 
fell upon the blade close to the hilt, the sword snapped in two, 
and the captain was defenseless. 

This mishap took all the spirit-born courage out of him, 
and he threw down his broken weapon. 

“ I give in," he cried, backing away to the side of the lane 
and facing the two dimly seen figures in the darkness; “ what 
do you want?" 

One of the men burst into a hoarse laugh. 

“ I’ve hardly any money," cried the captain; “a guinea or 
two. If I give you that will you go pn?" 

“ Curse your money, you cowardly hound!" cried the sec- 
ond man. 


20 


COMMODOEE JUHK. 


‘‘ How dare you, dog!^^ cried the captain. “ Do you know 
who I am?^^ 

“ James Armstrong, said the same speaker. Now, lad, 
quick 

“ You shall— 

The captaiii^s words turned into a yell of agony as he re- 
ceived a violent blow from a stick across one arm, numbing 
it, and before its echo rose from the steep slope of the hill a 
second and a third blow fell, which were followed by a shower, 
the unfortunate man yelling, beseeching, and shrieking with 
agony and fear. He dropped upon his knees and begged 
piteously for mercy; but his tormentors laughed, and seized 
the opportunity he offered to apply their blows more satisfac- 
torily. Back, arms, legs, all in turn, were belabored as two 
men beat a carpet, till the victim^s cries grew hoarse, then 
faint, and finally ceased, and he lay in the trampled road, 
crushed almost to a mummy., and unable to stir hand or foot; 
and then, and then only, did his assailants cease. 

“ AinT killed him, have we, Abel, lad?^^ said the bigger of 
the two men. 

“ Killed? No. W e never touched his head. It would take 
a deal to kill a thing like him. Captain!” he said, mockingly. 
“ What a cowardly whelp to command men!” 

“ What shall we do now?” whispered the bigger man. 

“Do! Tm going to make my mark upon him, and then go 
home.” 

“ Well, you have, lad.” 

“ Ay, with a stick, but I^m going to do it with my knife;” 
and, as he spoke, the lesser of the two men drew his knife from 
its dagger-like sheath. 

“No, no, donT do that. Give him a good ^un on the head. 
No knife.” 

“Yes, knife,” said the lesser of the two. “ He ^s had no 
mercy, and I’ll have none. He’s stunned, and won’t feel it.” 

“ Don’t do that, lad,” whispered the bigger man. 

“ Ay, but 1 will,” said the other, hoarsely; and, dropping 
on his knees, he seized the prostrate man by the ear, when the 
trembling wretch uttered a shriek of agony, making his as- 
sailants start away. 

“ Did you do it, lad?” 

“ Yes; I done it. I’m satisfied now. Let’s go.” 

“ And leave him there?” 

“ Why not? What mercy did he show? He was only sham- 
ming. Let him call for help now till some one comes.” 

The bigger man uttered a grunt and followed his companion 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 


21 


as he mounted the steep side of the lane, while, faint, exhaust- 
ed, and bleeding now. Captain James Armstrong sunk back 
and fainted away. 


CHAPTER VI. 

BKOUGHT TO BOOK. 

“ You dare not deny it!’^ cried Mary Dell, furiously, as she 
stood in the door-way of the cottage, facing her brother and 
Bart Wrigley, who attempt to escape, but were prevented by 
her barring the way of exit. 

Neither spoke, but they stood looking sullen and frowning 
like a couple of detected school-boys. 

“ No,^^ she continued, “you dare not deny it. You cow- 
ards — lying in wait for an unarmed man!^' 

“ Why, heM got a sword and pistols,^'’ cried Bart. 

“ There shrieked Mary, triumphantly; “ you have be- 
trayed yourself, Bart. Now perhaps my brave brother will 
confess that he lay. in wait in the dark for an unarmed man, 
and helped to beat him nearly to death. 

“ You’re a nice fellow to trust, Bart,” said Abel, looking at 
his companion. “ Betrayed yourself directly.” 

“Couldn’t help it,” grumbled Bart. “She’s so sharp 
upon a man.” 

“ You cowards!” cried Mary again. 

“ Well, I don’t know about being cowards,” said Abel, sul- 
lenly. “ He was mounted and had his weapons, and we had 
only two sticks.” 

“ Then you confess it was you? .Oh! what a villain to have 
for a brother!” 

“ Here, don’t go on like that,” cried Abel. “ See how he 
has served you. ” 

“ What is that to you?” cried Mary, fiercely. “ If he jilted 
me and I forgive him, how dare you interfere?” 

“Phew!” whistled Bart to himself. “What a way she 
has!” 

“ Why, any one would think you cared for him, Polly,” 
said Abel, staring, while Bart whistled softly again, and wiped 
the heavy dew from his forehead. 

“ Care for him! — I hate him!” cried Mary, passionately: 
“ but do you think I wanted my own brother to go and take 
counsel with his big vagabond companion — ” 

“Phew!” whistled Bart again, softly, as he perspired now 
profusely, and wiped his forehead with his fur cap. 

“And then go and beat one of the king’s officers? But 


22 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 


you^ll both suffer for it. The constables will be here for you, 
and youTl both be punished.'’^ 

“ Not likely— eh, Bart?"^ said Abel, with a laugh. 

“ No, lad,^^ growled that worthy. “ Too dark.^^ 

“Don't you be too sure," cried Mary. “You cowpds! 
and if he dies — there was an hysterical spasm here — “ if he 
dies, you’ll both go to the gibbet and swing in chains!" 

Bart gave his whole body a writhe, as if he already felt the 
chains about him as he was being made into a scare-scamp. 

“ Didn’t hit hard enough, and never touched his head," he 
growled. 

“ And as for you," cried Mary, turning upon him sharply, 
“ never you look me in the face again. You are worse than 
Abel; and I believe it was your mad, insolent jealousy set you 
persuading my foolish brother to help in this cowardly at- 
tack." 

Bart tried to screw up his lips and whistle; but his jaw 
seemed to drop, and he only stared and? shuffled behind his 
companion in misfortune. 

“Never mind what she says, Bart, lad," said the latter; 
“ she’ll thank us some day for half killing as big a scamp as 
ever stepped." 

“ Thank you!" cried Mary, with her eyes flashing and her 
handsome face distorted, “ I hope to see you both well pun- 
ished, and — " 

“ Who’s that coming?" said Abel, sharply, as steps were 
heard approaching quickly. 

As Mary turned round to look, Abel caught sight of some- 
thing over her shoulder in the evening light which made him 
catch his companion by the arm. 

“ Quick, Bart, lad!" he whispered; “ through her room 
and squeeze out of the window. The constables!" 

He opened the door of his sister’s little room, thrust his 
mate in, followed, and shut and bolted the dbqr; but as he 
turned then to the window, a little strongly made frame which 
had once done duty in a vessel, Mary’s voice was heard speak- 
ing loudly in conversation with the new arrivals in the outer 
room. 

“ Out with you, quickly and quietly," whispered Abel. 

“ Eight, lad," replied Bart; and unfastening and opening 
the little window, he thrust his arms through and began to get 
out. 

At that moment there was a loud knocking at the door. 

“ Open — in the king’s name!" 


COMMODORE JUITK. 


23 


“ Open it yourself/^ muttered Abel, “ when we^re gone. 
Quick, Bart, lad!^^ 

This remark was addressed to the big fellow^s hind-quarters, 
which were jerking and moving in a very peculiar way, and 
then Bart's voice was heard, sounding muffled and angry, 
warning somebody to keep off. 

“ Curse it all! too late!" cried Abel, grinding his teeth. 
‘‘ Here, Bart, lad, get through." 

“ Can't, lad," growled his companion. I'm ketched just 
across the hips, and can't move." 

“ Come back, then." 

“ That's what I’m a-trying to do, but this son of a sea-cook 
has got hold of me. " 

“ Open--in tile king's name!" came from the outer room; 
and^then, just as Abel had seized an old sea-chest and was 
about to drag it before the door, there was a tremendous kick, 
the bolt was driven off, the door swung open, and the Dart- 
mouth constable and a couple of men rushed forward, and, in 
spite of Abel 's resistance, dragged him into the other room. 

“ Now, Dell, my lad," said the head man, “ I've got you 
at last." 

“ So it seems," said Abel, who stared hard at his sister as 
he spoke; while she stood with her hands clasped before her 
and a peculiarly rigid look in her face, staring wildly back. 

‘‘ Smuggling and wrecking weren’t enough for you, eh?" 

What do you want here?" said Abel, giving his sister a 
final scowl and then facing the head constable. 

"You, my lad-— you," said that individual, with a grin. 

“ What for?" 

" Attempted murder and robbery on the king's highway, 
my lad. " 

It's a lie! Who says so?" cried Abel, setting his teeth 
and fixing his sister again with his dark eyes as she gave him 
an imploring look. 

Never mind who says so, my lad. Information's laid all 
regular against you and Master Bart Wrigley. You're both 
captured neatly. Here, how long are you going to be bring- 
ing forward the other?" cried the constable. 

" We can't get him out," shouted a voice. ‘‘ He's stuck in 
the little window." 

“ Pull him back, then, by his legs." 

“Been trying ever so long," said another voice, "but he 
won't come." 

"T'll soon see to that," said the constable, backing Abel 
into the little bedroom which was darkened by Bart's body fill- 


24 


COMMODORE JT7KK. 


ing up the window. ‘‘ Here, lay hold of his legs, two of you, 
and give a good jerk.” 

The men obeyed, hut they did not give the jerk — Bart did 
that. Drawing in his legs like a grasshopper about to leap, 
he suddenly shot them out straight, when, though they did not 
alter his position where he was nipped in across the hips by the 
window-frame, they acted like catapults Upon the two consta- 
bles, who were driven backward, the one into a chair, the 
other into a sitting position on the floor, to the great delight of 
those who looked on. 

“ Four of you,” said the head constable, t^olidly; and 
hold on this time.” 

The men obeyed, two going to each leg; and though Bart 
gave three or four vigorous kicks, his captors were not dis- 
lodged. 

“ Now,^^ said the head constable, as the kicking legs be- 
came quiescent, “ all together!” 

There was a sharp jerk, and Barths body was snatched out 
of the imprisoning frame so suddenly that five men went down 
on the floor together, while the first to rise was Bart, who 
kicked himself free, made for the door in spite of a pistol 
leveled by the head constable, and passed through. 

“ Come on, Abel!’^ he shouted as he went. 

Abel made a dash to follow, but he only struck his face 
against the muzzle of a pistol, and the head constable held on. 

There was a rush after Bart, but it was needless, for the 
great stolid fellow had seen the state of affairs, and con^e back. 

All right, Abel, lad,^^ he growled; “1 won't leave you in 
the lurch. What^s it mean — lock-up?” 

Yes, my lad; charge of attempted murder and robbery,” 
said the head constable. 

“ Took all the skin off my hips and ribs,” growled Bart, 
rubbing himself softly. 

‘‘ Youfll have plenty of time to get well before your trial,” 
said the constable, smiling. Are you ready?” 

This last to Abel, who was gazing fiercely at his sister, who 
met his angry eyes with an imploring look. 

“ And my own sister, too, Bart,” he said, bitterly. “We 
fought for her, lad, and she gave information to the police. ” 

“ No, no, no, Abel!” cried Mary, running to him to fling 
her arms about his neck; but he gave her a rough thrust 
which sent her staggering back, and her countenance changed 
on the instant, for her eyes flashed vindictively, and she stood 
before him with folded arms. 

“ Prisoner confessed in the presence of you all that he com- 


Commodore junk. 


25 

mitted the act/'’ said the constable; and his words were re- 
ceived with a mutter of assent in chorus. 

“ Here, I^m ready, said Abel. “ Come along, mate.^^ 

So 1 /’ growled Bart, laying a hand on AbeBs shoul- 
der. “ I wouldn^t ha^ tliought it on you, Mary, my lass,^^ he 
said, as he gazed at her sadly as he shook his head. 

Mary made no reply, but stood with her arms folded across 
her breast and her brow wrinkled while the party moved out 
of the cottage; but the next instant the'scene which followed 
made her rush outside and gaze wildly with eyes dilated and 
breast heaving, and her hands now clasped as she watched the 
chase. 

For as the little party stood outside, Bart still with his hand 
upon his companion’s shoulder, Abel said quickly: 

“ The boat. Run!” 

Bart was, as a rule, rather slow of comprehension; but at 
that moment the same idea was filling his mind. That is to 
say, it was already charged, and Abel’s words were as so many 
sparks struck from steel to fire that charge. Consequently, 
as the young fellow struck the constable to the left, Bart did 
the same to the right, and they dashed ofi as one man toward 
where, just round the western point of rock which helped to 
form the little bay, they knew that their boat was lying, 
swinging with the tide to a grapnel lying on the sands. 

As they dashed off, running swiftly over the hard sand, the 
head constable raised his old brass-mounted pistol and fired, 
when the shot might have been supposed to have struck Mary 
Dell, so sharp a start did she give as she clapped one hand to 
her side, and then peered at the rising smoke, and drew a long 
breath full of relief. 

For, as the smoke rose, she could see the fugitives still run- 
ning, and that, quite a cloud of sea-birds had risen from the 
mew-stone, a hundred yards from shore, to fiy circling round, 
screaming querulously, as they slowly flapped their black- 
tipped wings. 

They’ll escape — they’ll escape!” cried Mary, clapping her 
hands joyously. “ The coward, to fire! And they’re afraid 
to run hard and catch them now they are out in the open. 
Yes, they’ll escape!” she cried again, as she saw the distance 
increasing between pursuer and pursued. “ They’ll get to the 
boat; the sail’s in, and there’s a good breeze. Oh, if I were 
only with them!” 

A sudden thought struck her, and she caught up a sun-bon- 
net from where it lay on the open window-sill. 

“I’ll go,” she thought. “They’ll sail west. I could 


^6 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


reach Mallow Cove across the fields, and signal to them. 
They^d come in and pick me up, and we could escape together 
far, far from here.'’^ 

All this with her cheeks flushiug, her handsome eyes spark- 
ling, and her breast rising and falling in the height of her 
emotion. 

Then a change came over her. Her eyes looked heavy; her 
forehead wrinkled again. . 

“ Escape! Where?^^ she said, half aloud. IM gladly go 
— away from all this torture; but they think I betrayed them, 
and would not come in.^^ 

The elasticity was gone out of her step, as she slowly climbed 
the face of the huge scarped rocks which towered above the 
cottage — a risky ascent, but one to which she was, as it were, 
born ; and, with her eyes fixed upon the pursuers and the fugi- 
tives, she trusted to her hands and feet to take her safely to 
the top, passing spot after spot where one unused to climbing 
would have stopped and turned back, so giddy was the ascent. 
Higher and higher, past clinging ivy, fern, and clusters of 
yellow ragwort, with patches of purple heath and golden 
gorse, till the further side of the rocky point was opened out, 
with the boat lying like a speck afloat beyond the line of 
foam. 

Mary paused there with her sun-bonnet in her hand to watch 
the result; but there was no exultation in her eyes, only a look 
of stony despondency, for from where she stood she could see 
now that the effort of her brother and his companion was in 
vain. 

They were still in ignorance as they ran on, for they were 
on the bay side of the point yet, toiling over the loose sand 
and shingle, where the washed-up weed lay thick; but Mary 
had a bird's-eye view of what in the clear south air seemed to 
be close at her feet, as close almost as where the boat lay in 
shelter from the north and easterly wind. 

The pursuers were now all together, and settled down to a 
steady trot, which pace they increased as Bart and Abel 
reached the rocks, and, instead of going right round, began to 
climb over some fifty yards from where the water washed the 
point. 

“ We're too many for him this time, Bart, my lad," crkd 
Abel. “ You weren't hit, were you?" 

“ Hit? No. Shot never went within a mile o' me." 

“ Then why are you dowsing your jib like that?" 

I were a-thinking about she, mate," said Bart, in a low 
growl. 


COMMODORTi: JUITK. 


27 


Curse her for a woman all overl^'’ said Abel. They take 
to a man, and the more he ill-uses ^em they fight for him the 
more.’^ 

‘‘ Ay, lad; but to think of her putting them on to us! It 
doiiT seem like she. 

Curse them!'"’ cried Abel, as he reached the other side of 
the point, and saw that which his sister had seen from the clilf 
behind the cottage. 

“ What for now?'’^ said Bart, stolidly, as he reached his 
companion's side. “ Hum, that’s it, is it?” 

He looked round him for a fresh way of escape. 

There was the sea, if they liked to leap in and swim; but 
they could be easily overtaken. The rocks above them were 
too overhanging to climb, and there was no other way, unless 
they returned, and tried to rush through their pursuers; for 
beyond the point the tide beat upon the cliff. 

“ No good, Bart; we’re trapped,” said Abel, stolidly. “ I’ll 
never forgive her — never!” 

“ Yes, you will,” said Bart, sitting down on a rock, and 
carefully taking off his fur cap to wipe his heated brow. “ You 
will some day. Why, I could forgive her anything — I could. 
She’s a wonderful gell; but, 1 say, my hips is werry sore.” 

He sat staring down at the boat beyond the point, the anchor 
having been taken on board, and the oars being out to keep 
her off the rocks, as she rose and fell with the coming tide. 

“No!” said Abel, bitterly. “I’ll never forgive her — 
never!” 

“ Nay, lad, don’t say that,” said Bart, rubbing one side. 
“ Hey, lass! There she is. Top o’ the cliff. Look at her, 
mate. ” 

“No,” said Abel; “ let her look — at her cowardly work. ” 

“ Now, then!” shouted the head constable, as he came pant- 
ing up. “ Is it surrender, or fight?” 

For answer, Abel climbed slowly down to the sands, fol- 
lowed by Bart; and the next minute they were surrounded 
and stood with gyves upon their wrists. 

“ AVarm work,” said the constable, cheerfully; “ but we’ve 
got you safe now.” 

“ Ay, you’ve got us safe,” growled Bart; “ but it wouldn’t 
ha’ been easy if Abel here had showed fight.” 

“ Been no use,” said the constable. I said to Billy Niggs 
here: ‘ Niggs,’ I said, ‘them two’ll make for their boat, and 
get away.’ ‘ Ay, zhure, that they ’ool,’ he said. Didn’t you, 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


Ay, zhure, sir, thafc^s just what I did say,^^ cried a con- 
stable, with a face like a fox-whelp cider apple. 

“ So 1 sent on two men to be ready in the boat. Come on, 
my lads.^^ 

The boat was pulled ashore. The two constables in charge 
leaped out with the grapnel, and dropped it on the sand; and 
then in silence the party with their ' " 



back, and beneath the spot where 


carved out of the rock, far above their heads, till they had 
gone out of sight, without once looking up or making a sign. 

Then the poor girl sunk down in the rocky niche where she 
had climbed first, and burst into an agonized fit of weeping. 

‘‘Father — mother — brother — all gone! Lover false! Alone 
— alone— alone !^^ she sobbed. “ What have 1 done to deserve 
it all? Nothing !^^ she cried, fiercely, as she sprung to her feet 
and turned and shook her clinched fists landward. “ Nothing 
but love a cold, cruel wretch. Yes, love; and now — oh, how 
1 hate him — and all the world !'"’ 

She sunk down again in the niche all of a heap, and sat 
there with the sun slowly sinking lower, and the sea-birds 
wheeling round and round above her head, and watching her 
with inquisitive eyes, as they each now and then uttered a 
mournful wail, which sounded sympathetic, though probably 
it was the gullish expression of wonder whether the crouching 
object was good to eat. 

And there she sat, hour after hour, till it was quite dark, 
when she began slowly to descend, asking herself what she 
should do to save her brother and his friend, both under a mis- 
conception, but suffering for her sake. 

“ And 1 stay here!^^ she said, passionately. “ Let them 
think what they will, Ifil try and save them, for they must be 
in prison now.^' 

Mary was quite right; for as night fell Abel Dell and Bart 
his companion were partaking of a very frugal meal, and made 
uncomfortable by the fact that it was not good, and that they 
— men free to come and go on sea and land — were now safely 
caged behind a massive iron grill. 

“ Well,^^ said Bart, at last, “ I^m only sorry for one thing 
now.^^ 

“ What’s that — Mary being so base?” 

“Nay, I’m sorry for that,” replied Bart; “but what I 
meant was that I didn’t give the captain one hard ’un on the 


head.” 


COMMODORE JUKK» 


2d 


CHAPTER VIL 

GATHERING CLOUDS. 

In spite of the declaration made by Captain Armstrong that 
he had identified his assailants by their heights, voices, and — 
dark as was the night — their features, Abel refused to be con- 
vinced. He had taken it into his head that Mary had de- 
nounced them to her former lover, and at each examination 
before the Old Devon magistrates he had sullenly turned away 
from the poor girl, who sat gazing imploringly at the dock, 
and hungering for a look in return. 

The captain was not much hurt; that is to say, no bones 
were broken. Pain he had suffered to a little extent, for there 
was an ugly slit in one ear, but he was not in such a condition 
as to necessitate his limping into court, supported by a couple 
of servants, and generally got up to look like one who had 
been nearly beaten to death. 

All this told against Abel and_ Bart, as well as the fact that 
the captain was of good birth, and one who had lately formed 
an alliance with a famous old county family. In addition, the 
prisoners were known to the bench Both Abel and Bart had 
been in trouble before, and black marks were against them for 
wrecking and smuggling. They were no worse than their 
neighbors, but the law insists upon having scarecrows, and the 
constables did not hesitate to make every effort to hang the 
son of a notorious -old wrecker and his boon companion. 

There was not a dissentient voice. Abel Dell and Bartholo- 
mew Wrigley were both committed for trial; and Mary made 
quite a sensation by rising in the court as the prisoners were 
about to be removed, and forcing her way to where she could 
catch her brother's hand. 

“ Abe,^^ she cried, passionately, I didnT. I didnH, in- 
deed. Say good-bye.-’^ 

He turned upon her fiercely, and snatched his hand away. 

“ Go to your captain,^^ he said, savagely. I shall be out 
of the way now."*^ 

An ordinary woman would have shrunk away sobbing; but 
as Mary was flung off, she caught at Bart's wrist, and clung 
to that. 

‘‘ Bart, 1 didn't! I didn't!" she whispered, hoarsely. ‘‘ Tell 
him I wouldn't— I couldn't do such a thing. It isn't true!" 

Bart's face puckered up, and he looked tenderly down in 
the agitated face before him. 


30 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ Well, lass,’^ he said, softly, ‘‘ I believe — 

“ That you turned against us!'’^ interposed Abel, savagely, 
for his temper, consequent upon the way matters had gone 
against him, was all on edge. “ Come on, Bart; sheTl have 
her own way now.^^ 

A constable's hand was on each of their shoulders, and they 
were hurried out of court, leaving Mary standing frowning 
alone, the observed of all. 

Her handsome face flushed, and she drew herself up proudly, 
as she cast a haughtily defiant look at all around, and was 
about to walk away when her eyes lighted upon the captain, 
who was seated by the magisterial bench, side by side with hiS 
richly dressed lady. 

There was a vindictive glare in Mary DelFs eyes as she en- 
countered the gaze of Mistress Armstrong, the lady looking 
upon her as a strange, dangerous kind of creature. 

“ Why should she not suffer as I suffer?’^ thought Mary. 
“ Poor, weak, dressed-up doll that she is! I could sting her 
to the heart easily. How I hate her, for she has robbed me of 
a husband!” 

But the next moment the lady withdrew her gaze with a 
shiver of dread from the eyes which had seemed to scorch her; 
and Mary’s now lighted upon those of Captain Armstrong, for 
he was watching her curiously and with reawakened interest. 

Mary’s face changed again in its expression, as light seemed 
to enter her darkened soul. 

“ He used to love me a little. He would not be so cruel as 
that. I offended him, because I was so hard and — cruel, he 
called it. He would listen to me now. I will, I will!” 

She gazed at him fixedly for a moment, and then hurried 
from the court. 

“ What a dreadful-looking woman. Jemmy!” whispered 
Mistress Armstrong. She quite made me shudder. Will 
they hang her too?” 

“No, no,” he said, rising quickly and drawing a long 
breath. Then, recollecting himself, he sat down again as if 
in pain, and held out his hand to his wife, who supported him 
to the carriage, into which he ascended slowly. 

“ Sorry for you, Armstrong; deuced sorry, egad,” said the 
senior magistrate, coming up to the carriage door.' “ Can’t 
help feeling glad too.” 

“Oh, Sir Timothy!” cried Mistress Armstrong,, who was a 
seventeenth cousin. 

“But I am, my dear,” said the old magistrate. “Glad, 
because it will rid us of a couple of dreadful rascals. Trial 


COMMODORE JUNK. 31 

comes on in three weeks. I wouldn^t get well too soon. 
Judge Bentham will hang them as sure as they’re alive.” 

He nodded and walked off with his cocked hat well balanced 
on his periwig. Then the heavy lumbering carriage drove out 
of the quaint old town, with the big dumpling horses perspir- 
ing, up the hills; while, as soon as they were away from the 
houses. Mistress Armstrong leaned back on the cushions with 
a sigh of relief. 

“ I do hope the judge will hang them,” she said. A pair 
of wicked, bad, cruel ruffians, to beat and half 4ill my own 
dear darling Jemmy as they did. Oh, the cruel, cruel creat- 
ures! I could hang them myself! Does it hurt you anywhere 
now, my own sweetest boy?” she added, softly, as she passed 
her arm caressingly round her liege lord, who gave such a sav- 
age start that she shrunk into the other corner of the carriage, 
with the tears starting to her eyes. 

“Don’t be such a confounded fool!” her “sweetest” 
Jemmy roared; and then he sat back scowling, for she had 
interrupted a sort of day-dream in which he was indulging re- 
specting Mary Dell, whose eyes still seemed to be fixed upon 
his; and as his wife’s last words fell upon his ear they came 
just as he was wondering whether, if they met again, Mary 
would, in her unprotected state, prove more kind and not so 
prudish as of yore. 

The honey-nioon had been over some time. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MARY BEGINS TO PLAN. 

Mary Dell was a girl of keen wits, but her education was 
of the sea-shore. Among her class people talked of the great 
folk, and men of wealth and their power — and not without ex- 
cuse — for in those days bribery, corruption, and class clannish- 
ness often carried their way to the overruling of justice — the 
blind; and in her ignorance she thought that if she could win 
over Captain Armstrong to forgive her brother, the prosecu- 
tion would be at an end, and all would be well. 

Consequently she determined to go up to the big house by 
Slapton Lea, and beg Mistress Armstrong to intercede with 
her husband, and ask his forgiveness; so one morning soon 
after the committal she set off, but met the carriage with the 
young married couple inside — Mistress Armstrong looking 
piqued and pale, and the captain as if nothing were the mat- 
ter. 

The sight of the young wife side by side with the man who 


32 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


had professed to love her was too much for Mary, and she 
turned off the road and descended by the face of a dangerously 
steep cliff to the shingly shore; where, as she trampled home- 
ward, with her feet sinking deeply in the small loose pebbles,* 
her feeling of bitterness increased, and she felt that it would 
be impossible to ask that weak, foolish-looking woman with 
the doll's face to take her part. 

^^o; she would go up to the house boldly and ask to see the 
captain himself; and then, with the memory of his old love 
for her to help her cause, he would listen to her prayer, and 
save her brother from the risk he ran. 

Then a mental cloud came over her, and she felt that she 
could not go up to the big house. It was not the captain's, it 
was her mother's; and it would be like going to ask a favor of 
her. She could not do it; and there was no need. 

Captain Armstrong would come down to the shore any even- 
ing if she sent him the old signal, a scrap of dry sea-weed 
wrapped in paper. Scores of times she had done this when 
Abel had gone to sea in his boat, with Bart for companion; 
and Mary's cheeks flushed at the recollection of those meetings. 

Yes; she would send him the old signal by one of the fisher- 
men's children. 

No; only if all other means failed. He was better now, and 

ould be about. She would watch for him, and, as she called 
xo, meet him by accident, and then plead her cause. 

And so a week glided away, and there was only about one 
more before the judge would arrive, and Abel and his com- 
panion be brought up in the assize court. Mary had haunted 
every road and lane leading toward the big house, and had. 
met the captain riding and walking, but always with Mistress 
Armstrong, and she could not speak before her. 

There was nothing for it but to take the bold step, and 
after long hesitation that step was taken; the piece of sea-weed 
was wrapped up in paper, intrusted to a little messenger, and 
that evening Mary l)ell left the cottage and walked round the 
western point toward Torcross, her cheeks flushed, her eyes 
unusually bright, and her heart full of care. 

She was not long in reaching the well-known spot — their old 
trysting-place, where the coarse sand was white, and the rocks 
which shut in the retired tiny cove rough with limpet, barna- 
cle, and weed. 

This was the first time she' had been there since James 
Armstrong had wearied of the prude, as he called her, and 
jilted her for his wealthy wife; and now the question arose: 
Would he come? 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


33 


The evening was glorious; but oAe thought filled Mary^s 
breast — Abel shut up behind the prison bars, still obdurate, 
and believing her false to him, and his faithful friend. 

The gray look on the face of the sea was reflected upon that 
of the watcher; and as the sky grew dark, so grew Mary DelTs 
eyes, only that there was a lurid light now and then glowing 
in their depths. 

‘‘ He will not come,'’' she said. He hates me now as I 
hate him, and — " 

She stopped short, for her well-trained ear caught the sound 
of a pebble falling as if from a height upon the strand below, 
and gazing fixedly above the direction of the sound, she made 
out something dark moving high up on the cliff track. 

Mary's heart began to beat wildly, and she drew a long 
breath; but she would not let hope carry her away for a few 
moments till she could be certain, and then a faint cry of joy 
escaped her, but only to be succeeded by a chilling sensation, 
as something seemed to ask her why he had come. 

“I’m late," cried a well-known voice directly after. ‘ ‘ Why, 
Mary, just in the old spot. It’s like old times. My darling!" 

He tried to clasp her in his arms, his manner displaying no 
trace of his injuries; but she thrust him sharply away, half 
surprised and yet not surprised, for she seemed now to read 
the man’s character to the full. 

“ Captain Armstrong!’’ she cried, hoarsely. 

“ Why, my dear Mary, don’t be so prudish. You are not 
going to carry on that old folly?" 

“ Captain Armstrong, don’t mistake me.’’ 

“ Mistake you! Ho.- You are the dearest, loveliest woman 
I ever saw. There, don’t be huffed because I was so long. I 
couldn’t get away. You know — ’’ and he again tried to seize 
her. 

“ Captain Armstrong — " 

“ Now, what nonsense! You sent for me, and I have 
come." 

“Yes. I sent for you because there was no other way of 
speaking to you alone. ’’ 

“ Quite right, my darling; and what could be better than 
here alone? Mary, sweet, it will be dark directly." 

“ Sir, I sent for you here that I might beg of you to save 
my brother and poor Bart." 

“ Curse your brother and Bart!" said the captain, angrily. 
“ It was not their fault that they did not kill me. They’re 
better out of our way. " ^ 

2 


34 


COMMODORE JUNE. 


Captain Armstrong — James — for our old lovers sake, will 
you save them?^^ 

‘‘No/" he cried, savagely. “Yes,"" he added, catching 
Mary"s wrist; “ not for our old love"s sake, but for our new 
love— the love that is to come. Mary, I love you; I always 
did love you, and now I find I can not live without you. "" 

“ Captain Armstrong!"" 

“ James — your lover. Mary, you are everything to me. 
Don"t struggle. How can you be so foolish? There, yes, I 
will. 1"11 do everything. ITl refuse to appear against them 
if you wish me to. I"ll get them set free; but you will not 
hold me off like this?"" 

“You will save my brother?"" 

“ Yes. "" 

“ And his friend?"" 

“Yes."" 

“ Then I will always be grateful to you, and pray for your 
happiness. "" 

“ And be mine, Mary, my love, my own?"" 

‘‘ You villain! you traitor!"" hissed Mary, as, taking ad- 
vantage of a momentary forgetfulness, he clasped her in his 
arms and showered kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her hair. 

But Captain Armstrong had made a mistake. It was like 
caressing a Cornish wrestler. There was a sharp struggle, 
during which he found that Mary"s thews and sinews were, 
softly rounded as she was, strong as those of a man. She had 
been accustomed to row a boat in a rough sea by the hour 
together, and there was additional strength given to her arm 
by the indignation that made her blood course hotly through 
her veins. 

How dare he, a miserable traitor, insult her as he did? 

The question made the girTs blood seem to boil; and ere he 
could place another kiss upon her lips Mary had forgotten 
brother, friend, the trial, everything but the fact that James 
Armstrong, Mistress Armstrong"s husband, had clasped her in 
his arms, and in return she clasped him tightly in hers. 

They swayed here for a moment, then there, and the next 
the captain was lifted completely from the shingle and liter- 
ally jerked sideways, to fall with a crash and strike his head 
against a piece of rock. Then a sickening sensation came over 
him and all seemed dark, while, when he recovered a few min- 
utes later, his head was bleeding and he was alone, and afraid 
with his swimming head to clamber up the rough cliff path. 

“ The cursed jade!"" he muttered, as he recovered after a 


COMMODORE JIJMK. 35 

time, and went cautiously back after tying up his head. ‘‘ I 
wish I could lay her alongside her brother in the jail.-’^ 

“ Yes; 1^11 save him/^ he said, with a mocking laugh, as he 
reached the top of the cliff and looked down at the faint light 
seen in the old wrecker ^s cottage. “Tl] save him; and, in 
spite of all, it^ll be a strange thing if Mary Dell isn’t lost. Curse 
her, how strong she is!” he said, after a pause. “ What shall 
I say? Humph! a slip on the path and a fall. I’m weak yet 
after the assault. Some one will have to plaster her dearest 
Jemmy’s head — a sickly fool!” 


CHAPTEE IX. 

BEHIND PRISON BARS. 

Mart Dell went again and again to the prison in the 
county town, tramping till she was foot-sore; but she did not 
see Abel, for she had to encounter double difficulties — to wit, 
the regulations of the authorities, and her brother’s refusal to 
see her. 

At last, though, she compassed an interview with Bart Wrig- 
ley, and the big fellow listened to her stolidly, as he enjoyed 
the sound of her voice, sighing heavily from time to time. 

‘‘ But even you seem at times, Bart, as if you did not believe 
a word I say,” she cried, passionately. 

Who says I don’t?” said Bart, in a low growl. “You 
tells me you didn’t, my lass, and of course you didn’t. Why, 
I’d believe anything you told me; but as for Abel, he’s dead- 
set on' it that you told the captain, and there’s no moving 
him. ” 

“But tell him, Bart, tell him I was angry with him for 
what he did — ’ ’ 

“ What we did,” said Bart, who was too loyal to shirk his 
share. 

“ Well, what you both did, Bart; but that I would sooner 
have died than betray my own brother.” 

“ Haw, haw! That’s a wunner,” said Bart, with a hoarse 
laugh. “ That’s just what I did tell him.” 

“ You did, Bart?” 

“ Ay, my lass, I did; but he — ” 

Bart stopped. 

“ Yes, Bart, what did he say?” 

“ Said I was a blind, thick-headed fool.’^ 

“ Oh, Bart, Bart, Bart! you are the best and truest friend 
we ever had. ” 

“ Say that again, lass, will you?” said the rough feUow. 


36 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


Mary said it again with greater emphasis, and big Bart 
rubbed the corner of one eye with the back of his hand. 

“ Tell him, dear Bart, that his sister was true to him all 
through, and that he must believe me. 

Ay, lass, 1^11 tell him; but don^’t call me ‘ dear Bart ^ 
again, -’cause 1 can’t bear it.-” 

‘‘ But you are our friend, and have always been like a brother 
to us.” 

“ Ay, lass, 1 tried to be, and I’ll speak to him again. Bah! 
you never went again’ us. You couldn’t. Your tongue 
thrashed us a bit, as you alius did, but it was for our good. 
And now, look here, my lass, when we’re gone — ” 

“ When you’re gone, Bart!” cried Mary, with her lip quiv- 
ering. 

“ Ay, lass, when we’re gone, for I dare say they’ll hang us.” 

‘‘Bart!” 

“ Oh, it won’t hurt much. Not worse than being drownded, 
and much quicker. ” 

“ Oh, Bart, Bart!” 

“ Don’t cry, my pretty one, only don’t forget us. You 
won’t forget Abel, of course; but' — 1 never felt as if I could 
talk to you like this before — don’t forget as Bart Wrigley was 
werry fond on you, and that if he’d been a fine hansum chap, 
’stead of such a rough ’un, with his figure-head all set o’ one 
side, he’d ha’ stuck up and said as no one else shouldn’t have 
you.” 

“ Oh, Bart, Bart!” sobbed Mary, piteously. 

“ Ay, lass, that he would; but he often says to himself, ‘ It 
wouldn’t be kind to a girl like that to hang on to her. ’ So, 
good-bye, my pretty lady, and I’ll tell Abel as he’s the blind, 
thick-headed fool if he says it was you as got us into this 
hole. ” 

Bart had to wind up his unwontedly long speech very 
quickly, for a couple of turnkeys had entered the stone? walled 
room, to conduct the big fellow back to his cell and show 
Mary to the outside of the prison. 

“ Good-bye, dear Bart, dear old friend!” 

“ Good-bye, my pretty lady!” cried the big fellow. “ You 
called me ‘ dear Bart ’ again.” 

“ Yes, dear Bart, dear brother!” cried Mary, passionately, 
and, raising his big hand to her lips, she kissed it. 

“Bah!” growled Bart to himself, “let ’em hang me. 
What do I care arter all? ‘Dear Bart — dear Bart!’ 1 
wouldn’t care a bit if I only knowed what she’d do when we’re 
gone. ” 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


37 


Then the time glided on, and Mary heard from one and 
another the popular belief that the authorities, rejoicing in 
having at last caught two notorious smugglers and wreckers 
red-handed in a serious offense, were determined to make an 
example by punishing them with the utmost rigor of the law. 

The poor girl in her loneliness had racked her brains for 
means of helping her brother. She had sold everything of 
value they possessed to pay for legal assistance, and she had, 
with fertile imagination, plotted means for helping Abel to 
escape; but even if her plans had been possible, they had been 
crossed by her brother's obstinate disbelief in her truth. His 
last message was one which sent her to the cottage hushed and 
angry, for it was a cruel repetition of his old accusation, 
joined with a declaration that he disbelieved in her in other 
ways, and that this had been done in collusion with Captain 
Armstrong to get him and Bart out of her way. 

‘‘ He ^11 be sorry some day,^^ she said, on the morning before 
the trial, as she sat low of spirit and alone in the little cottage. 
“ Poor Abel! he^’s very bitter and cruel; poor — Yes, do you 
want me?^^ 

“ Genlum give me this to give you,^^ said a boy. 

Mary excitedly caught at the letter the boy handed to her, 
and opening it with trembling hands, managed with no little 
difficulty to spell out its contents. 

They were very short and laboriously written in a large 
school-boy-like hand for her special benefit by one who knew 
her deficiencies of education. 

It is not too late yet. Abel will be tried to-morrow and 
condemned unless a piece of sea- weed is received to-night. 

And I used to love him and believe in himT^ she cried at 
last passionately, as her hot indignation at last mastered her, 
and she tore the letter in pieces with her teeth, spat the frag- 
ments upon the ground, and stamped upon them with every 
mark of contempt and disgust. 

Then a change came over her, and she sunk sobbing upon a 
stool, to burst forth into a piteous wail. 

‘‘ Oh, Abel! — brother! — it is all my doing. I have sent you 
to your death !’^ 


CHAPTER X. 

A DA KING TRICK. 

The laws were tremendously stringent in those days when it 
was considered much easier to bring an offender's bad career 


88 COMMODORE JUNK. 

to an end than to keep him at the nation^s expense; and when 
the stealing of a sheep was considered a crime to be punished 
with death, an attack upon the sacred person of one of the 
king^s officers by a couple of notorious law-breakers was not 
likely to he looked upon leniently by a judge well-known for 
stern sentences. 

But a jury of Devon men was sitting upon the offense of 
Abel Dell and Bart Wrigley, and feeling disposed to ideal easily 
with a couple of young fellows whose previous bad character 
was all in connection with smuggling, a crime with the said 
jury of a very light dye, certainly not black. Abel and Bart 
escaped the rope, and were sentenced to transportation to one 
of his majesty colonies in the West Indies, there to do con- 
vict work in connection with plantations, or the making of 
roads, as their task-masters might think fit. 

Time glided by, and Mary Dell found that her life at home 
had become insupportable. 

She was not long in finding that, now that she was left alone 
and unprotected, she was not to be free from persecution. Her 
contemptuous rejection of Captain Armstrong's advances 
seemed to have the effect of increasing his persecution; and 
one evening at the end of a couple of months Mary Dell sat on 
one of the rocks outside the cottage door, gazing out to sea, 
and watching the ships sail westward, as she wondered whether 
those on board would ever see the brother who seemed to be 
all that was left to her in this world. 

That particular night the thought which had been hatching 
in her brain ever since Abel had been sent away flew forth 
fully fledged and ready, and she rose from where she had been 
sitting in the evening sunshine, and walked into the cottage. 

Mary DelDs proceedings would have excited a smile from 
an observer, but the cottage stood alone. She had heard that 
Captain Armstrong was from home and not expected back for 
a week, and there was no fear of prying eyes as the sturdy, 
well-built girl took down a looking-glass from where it hung 
to a nail, and, placing it upon the table, propped it with an 
old jar, and then seating herself before the glass, she folded 
her arms, rested them upon the table, and sat for quite an 
hour gazing at herself in the mirror. 

Womanly vanity? Not a scrap of it, but firm, intense pur- 
pose; deep thought; calm, calculating observation before tak- 
ing a step that was to influence her life. 

She rose after a time and walked into her brother AbeBs 
bedroom, where she stayed for some minutes, and then with a 
quick, resolute step she re-entered the cottage kitchen, thrust 


COMMODOEE JUITK. 


39 


the few embers together that burned upon the hearth, took a 
pair of scissors from a box, and again seated herself before the 
glass. 

The sun was setting, and filled the slate-floored kitchen with 
light which flashed back from the blurred looking-glass, and 
cast a curious glare in the girTs stern countenance, with its 
heavy dark brows, sun-browned ruddy cheeks, and gleaming 
eyes. 

Sni'p ! 

The sharp scissors had passed through one lock of the mass- 
ive black tresses which she had shaken over her shoulders, and 
which then rippled to the cottage floor. 

Sni'p I 

Another cut, and two locks had fallen. Then rapidly snip, 
snip, snip — a curious thick, sharp snip — and the great waves 
of glorious hair kept falling as the bare, sun-burned, ruddy 
arm played here and there, and the steel blades glittered and 
opened and closed, as if arm, hand, and scissors formed the 
neck, head, and angry bill of some fierce bird attacking that 
well-shaped head, and at every snap took off a thick tress of 
hair. 

It was not a long task, and when the hair had all fallen, to 
lie around, one glorious ring of glossy black tresses, there were 
only a few snips ’to give here and there to finish off notches 
and too long, untidy spots, and then the girl rose, and with a 
cold, hard look upon her frowning face she stooped, and 
stooped,, and stooped, and at each rising cast a great tress of 
hair to where the flames leaped, and seized it, scorching the 
locks, which writhed, and curled, and flared, and crackled as 
if alive, while, as if to aid the idea that she was destroying 
something living, a peculiarly pungent odor arose, as of burn- 
ing flesh,, and filled the room. 

An hour later, just as the red moon rose slowly above the 
surface of the sea, a sturdy-looking young man, with a stout 
stick in one hand — the very stick which had helped to belabor 
Captain Armstrong — and a bundle tied up in a handkerchief 
beneath his arm, stepped out of the cottage, changed the key 
from inside to outside, closed the old door, locked it, dragged 
out the key, and with a sudden jerk sent it flying far out into 
deep water beyond the rocks, where it fell with a dull plash ! 
followed by a peculiar hissing sound, as the waves at high 
water rushed back over the fine shingle at the thrower^s feet. 

There was a sharp look round then; but no one was in sight; 
nothing to be heard but the hissing waters, and the splashing, 
gasping, and smacking sound, as the tide swayed in and out 


40 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


among the masses of stone. Then the figure turned once more 
to the cottage, gazed at it fixedly for a few moments, took a 
step or two away; hut sprung back directly with an exceeding 
bitter cry, and kissed the rough, unpainted wood-work again 
and again with rapid action, and then dashed off to the foot 
of the cliff and climbed rapidly to the sheep-track — the faint- 
ly seen path that led toward Slapton Lea and the old hall, 
where the captain still stayed with his young wife, and then 
joined the west road which led to Plymouth town. 

The risky part of the track was passed, and the open and 
down-like pastures beyond the cliffs were reached; and here, 
with the moon beginning to throw the shadow of the traveler 
far forward and in weird-looking length, the original of that 
shadow strode on manfully for another quarter of a mile, when 
all at once there was a stoppage, for another figure was seen 
coming from the direction of Torcross, and the moon shining 
full upon the face showed plainly who it was. 

There was no question of identity, for that evening, after 
more than his customary modicum of wine. Captain James 
Armstrong — whose journey had been postponed — had snubbed 
his young wife cruelly, quarreled with his cousin Humphrey, 
who had been there to dine, and then left the house, deter- 
mined to go down to Mary DelPs solitary cottage. 

“ Pm a fool,'''’ he said; 1 haven^t been firm enough with 
the handsome cat. She scratched. Well, cats have claws, 
and when I have taught her how to purr nicely she^ll keep 
them always sheathed. I"!! bring her to her senses to-night, 
once and for all. Who the deviPs this?"" muttered the cap- 
tain. “ Humph! sailor on the tramp to Plymouth. Well, he 
won"t know me. I won"t turn back."" 

He strode on a dozen yards and then stopped short, as the 
figure before him had stopped a few moments before; and then 
a change came over the aspect of the captain. His knees 
shook, his face turned wet, and his throat grew dry. . 

It was horrible; but there could be no mistake. 

Abel Dell !"" he cried, hoarsely, as he leaped at the idea 
that the brother had returned in spirit, to save his sister from 
all harm. 

“Out of my path!"" rang forth in answer, the voice being 
loud, imperious, and fierce;, and then, in a tone of intense 
hatred and suppressed passion, the one word — “ Hog!"" 

As the last word rang out there was a whistling as of a stick 
passing through the air, a tremendous thud, and the captain 
fell headlong upon the rocky ground. 

Then there was utter silence as the young sailor placed one 


COMMODOEE JtJNK. 


41 


foot upon the prostrate man^s chest, stamped upon it savagely, 
and strode on right away over the wild country bordering the 
sea. 

The figure loomed up once in the moonlight, as the captain 
rose slowly upon one elbow and gazed after it, to see that it 
seemed to be of supernatural proportions, and then he sunk 
back again with a groan. 

It"s a spirit, he said, ‘‘ come back to her;^^ and then the 
poltroon fainted dead away. 


CHAPTER XL 

m THE PLAHTATIOH. 

Some one was singing a west-country ditty. 

“ His sloe-black eyes — ” 

A pause in the singing, and the striking of several blows 
with a rough hoe, to the destruction of weeds in a coffee 
plantation; while, as the chops of the hoe struck the clods of 
earth, the fetters worn by the striker gave forth faint clinks. 

Then in a pleasant musical voice the singer went on with 
another line: 

“ And his curly hair — ” 

More chops with the hoe, and clinks of the fetters. 

“ His pleasing voice—” 

A heavy thump with the back of the tool at an obstinate 
clod, which took several more strokes before it crumbled up; 
and all the time the fetters clinked and clanked loudly. Then 
the singer went on with the sweet old minor air with its child- 
ish words. 

“ Did my heart insnare — ” 

Chop! chop! clinic ! clinic! clank! 

“ Genteel he was — ” 

“ But no rake like you.” 

Oh, I say, Abel, mate; don’t lad, don’t.” 

“ Don’t what?” said Abel Dell, resting upon his hoe, and 
looking up at big Bart Wrigley, clothed like himself, armed 
with a hoe, and also decorated with fetters, as he stood wiping 
the perspiration from his forehead. 

“ Don’t sing that there old song. It do make me feel so 
unked.” 

‘"Unked, Bart? Well, what if it does? These are unked 
days.” 


42 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


“ Ay; but each time you sings that I seem to see the rocks 
along by the shore at home, with the ivy hanging down, and 
the sheep feeding, and the sea rolling in, and the blue sky, 
with gulls a-flying; and it makes'me feel like a boy again, and, 
big as I am, as if I should cry.” 

“ Always were like a big boy, Bart. Hoe away, lad; the 
overseer^s looking. 

Bart went on chopping weeds, diligently following his 
friend^s example, as a sour-looking, yellow-faced man came 
by in company with a soldier loosely shouldering his musket. 
But they passed by without speaking, and Abel continued: 

‘‘ There’s sea here, and blue sky and sunshine.” 

‘‘ Ay,” said Bart; ‘‘there’s sunshine hot enough to fiy a 
mack’rel. Place is right enough if you was free; but it ar’n’t 
home, Abel, it ar’n’t home.” 

“Home! no,” said the young man, savagely. “But we 
have no home. She spoiled that.” 

There was an interval of weed -chopping and clod-breaking, 
the young men’s chains clankjng loudly as they worked now 
so energetically that the overseer noted their proceedings, and 
pointed them out as examples to stn. idle hand. 

“ Ah! you’re a hard ’un, Abel,” remarked Bart, after a 
time. 

“ Yes; and you’re a soft ’un, Bart. She could always turn 
you round her little finger.” 

“ Ay, bless her! and she didn’t tell on us.” 

“ Yes, she did,” said Abel, sourly; and he turned his back 
upon his companion, and toiled away to hide the working of 
his face. 

The sun shone down as hotly as it can shine in the West 
Indies, and the coarse shirts the young men wore showed 
patches of moisture where the perspiration came through; but 
they worked on, for the labor de^ened the misery in their 
breasts. 

And yet it was a very paradise, as far as nature was con- 
cerned. Man had spoiled it as far as he could, his cultivation 
being but a poor recompense for turning so lovely a spot into 
a plantation, worked by convicts — by men who fouled the 
ambient air each moment they opened their lips; while from 
time to time the earth was stained with blood. 

In the distance shone the sea, and between the plantation 
and the silver coral sands lay patches of virgin forest, where 
the richest and most luxuriant of tropic growth reveled in the 
heat and moisture, while in the sunny patches brilliant flowers 
blossomed. Then came wild tangle, cane-brake, and in one 


COMMODOEE JUKK. 


43 


place, where a ^reek indented the land, weird-looking man- 
groves spread their leafage over their muddy scaffolds of aerial 
roots. 

“ How long have we been here, mate?^^ said Bart, after a 
pause. 

‘‘ Dunno,^^ replied Abel, fiercely. 

Here he began chopping more vigorously. 

‘‘ How long will they keep us in this here place said 
Bart, after another interval, and he looked from the beautiful 
shore at the bottom of the slope on which they worked to the 
cluster of stone and wood-built buildings, which formed the 
prison and the station farm, with factory and mill, all worked 
by convict labor, while those in the neighborhood were man- 
aged by blacks. 

Abel did not answer, only scowled fiercely; and Bart sighed, 
and repeated his question. 

‘‘ Till we die!^^ said Abel, savagely; “ same as weVe seen 
other fellows die— of fever, and hard work, and the lash. 
Curse the captain! Curse — 

Bart clapped one hand over his companion's lips, and he 
held the other behind his head, dropping his hoe to leave full 
liberty to act. 

“ I never quarrels with you, Abel, lad,^^ he said, shortly; 
‘‘but if you says words again that poor gell, I^m going to 
fight — and that won't do. Is it easy?^' 

Abel seemed disposed to struggle; but he gave in, nodded 
his head, and Bart loosed him and picked up his hoe, just as 
the overseer, who had come softly up behind, brought down 
the whip he carried with stinging violence across the shoulders 
, of first one and then the other. 

The young m^n sprung round savagely; but there was a 
sentry close behind, musket-armed and with bayonet fixed, and 
they knew that fifty soldiers were within call, and that if they 
struck their task-master down and made for the jungle they 
would be hunted out with dogs, be shot down like wild beasts, 
or die of starvation, as other unfortunates had died before 
them. 

There was nothing for it but to resume their labor and hoe 
to the clanking of their fetters, while, after a promise of what 
was to follow, in the shape of tying up to the triangles, and 
the cat, if they quarreled again, the overseer went on to see to 
the others of his fiock. 

“ It's worse than a dog's life!" said Abel, bitterly. “ A 
dog does get patted as well as kicked. Bart, lad, I'm sorry I 
got you that lash. " 


44 COMMODORE JUNK. 

“ Nay, lad, never mind,^^ said Bart. “ I^m sorry for you; 
but don^t speak hard things of Mary. 

“ 1^11 try not,^^ said Abel, as he hoed away excitedly; “ but 
I hope this colfee we grow may poison those who drink it.^' 

“What for? They canT help it,^^ said Bart, smiling. 
“ There, lad, take it coolly. Some day we may make a run 
for it.’’^ 

“ And be shot!^^ said Abel, bitterly. “ There, youTe down 
to the end of that row. ITl go this way. He^s watching us.^^ 

Bart obeyed. He was one who always did obey; and by de- 
grees the young men were working right away from each 
other, till they were a good two hundred yards apart. 

Abel was at the end of his row first, and he stopped and 
turned to begin again and go down, so as to pass Bart about 
the middle of the clearing; but Bart had another minute^s 
chopping to do before turning. 

He was close up to a dense patch of forest — one wild tangle 
of cane and creeper, which literally tied the tall trees together 
and made the forest impassable — when the shrieking of a kind 
of jay, which had been fiitting about excitedly stopped, and 
was followed by the melodious whistle of a white bird and the 
twittering of quite a flock of little fellows of a gorgeous scar- 
let crimson. Then the shrieking of several parrots answering 
each other arose; while just above Barths head, where clusters 
of trumpet-shaped blossoms hung down from the edge of the 
forest, scores of brilliantly scaled humming - birds literally 
buzzed on almost transparent wing, and then suspended them- 
selves in midair as they probed the nectaries of the flowers 
with their long bills. 

“ You’re beauties, you are,’’ said Bart, stopping to wipe his 
brow; “ but I’d give the hull lot on you for a sight of one 
good old sarcy sparrer a-sitting on the cottage roof and saying 
chisel-chisel. Ah! shall us ever see old Devonshire again !” 

The parrots hung upside down, and the tiny humming-birds 
flitted here and there, displaying, from time to time, the brill- 
iancy of their scale-like feathers, and Bart glanced at his fel- 
low-convict and was about to work back, when there came a 
sound from out of the dark forest which made him stare wildly, 
and then the sound arose again. 

Bart changed color, and did not stop to hoe, but walked 
rapidly across to Abel. 

“ What’s the matter?” said the latter. 

“Dunno, lad,” said the other, rubbing his brow with his 
arm; “ but there’s something wrong. ” 

“ What is it?” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


45 


That^s what I dunno; but just now something said quite 
plain, ‘Bart! Bart!’"" 

“ Nonsense! You were dreaming.” 

“ Nay. I was wide awake as I am now, and as I turned and 
stared it said it again.” 

“It said it?” 

“ Well, she said it."" 

“ Poll parrot,” said Abel, gruffly. “ Go on with your 
work. Here’s the overseer. ” 

The young men worked away, and their supervisor passed 
them, and, apparently satisfied, continued his journey round. 

“ May have been a poll parrot,” said Bart. “ They do talk 
plain, Abel, lad; but this sounded like something else. ” 

“ What else could it be?” 

“ Sounded like a ghost.” 

Abel burst into a hearty laugh — so hearty that Bart’s face 
was slowly overspread by a broad smile. 

“Why, lad, that’s better,” he said, grimly. “ 1 ar’n’t 
seen you do that for months. Workaway.” 

The hint was given because of the overseer glancing in their 
direction; and they now worked on together slowly, going 
down the row toward the jungle, at which Bart kept on dart- 
ing uneasy glances. 

‘ ‘ Enough to make a man laugh to hear you talk of ghosts, 
Bart,” said Abel, after a time. 

“ What could it be, then?” 

“ Parrot some lady tamed,” said Abel, shortly, as they 
worked on side by side, “ escaped to the woods again. Some 
of these birds talk just like a Christian.” 

“ Ay,” said Bart, after a few moments’ quiet thought, “ I’ve 
heered "em lad; but there’s no poll parrot out here as knows 
me.” 

“ Knows you?” 

“ Well, didn’t I tell you as it called to me ^ Bart! Bart!" ” 

“ Sounded like it,” said Abel, laconically. “ What does he 
want?” 

For just then the overseer shouted, and signed to the gang- 
men to come to him. 

“ To begin another job — log-rolling, I think,” growled Bart, 
shouldering his hoe. 

At that moment, as Abel followed his example, there came 
in a low, eager tone of voice from out of the jungle, twenty 
yards away: 

“ Bart!— Abel!— Abel!” 

“ Don’t look,” whispered Abel, who reeled as if struck, and 


46 


OOMMODOKE JUNK. 


recovered himself to catch his companion by the arm. All 
right!” he said aloud; “we’ll be here to-morrow. We 
must go.” 


CHAPTEE XII. 

IN DEADLY PERIL. 

It was quite a week before the two young men were at work 
in the plantation of young trees again, and during all that 
time they had feverishly discussed the voice they had heard. 
Every time they approached the borders of the plantation 
where it ran up to the virgin forest they had been on the qui 
vive, expecting to hear their names called again, but only to 
be disappointed; and, after due consideration, Abel placed a 
right interpretation upon the reason. 

“ It was some one .who got ashore from a boat,” he said, 
“ and managed to crawl up there. It’s the only place where 
any one could get up.” 

“ Being nigh that creek, lad, where the crocodiles is,” said 
Bart. “ Ay, you’re right. Who could it be?” 

“ One of our old mates.” 

“Nay; no old mate would take all that trouble for uS, lad. 
It’s some one Mary’s sent to bring us a letter and a bit of 
news.” 

It was at night in the prison lines that Bart said this, and 
then he listened wonderingly in the dark, for he heard some- 
thing like a sob from close to his elbow. 

“Abel, matey!” he whispered. 

“ Don’t talk to me, old lad,” came back hoarsely after a 
time. And then, after a long silence, “ Yes, you’re right. 
Poor lass — poor lass!” 

“ Say that again, Abel; say that again,” whispered Bart, 
excitedly. 

“ Poor lass! I’ve been too hard on her. She didn’4 get us 
took.” 

“ Thank God!” 

These were Bart’s hoarsely whispered words, choked with 
emotion; and directly after, as he lay there, Abel Dell felt a 
great, rough, trembling hand pass across his face and search 
about him till it reached his owii, which it gripped and held 
with a strong, firm clasp, for there was beneath Bart’s rough, 
husk-like exterior a great deal of the true, loyal, loving mate- 
rial of which English gentlemen are made; and when toward 
morning those two prisoners fell asleep in their chains, hand 
was still gripped in hand, while the dreams that brightened 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


47 


the remaining hours of their rest from penal labor were very 
similar, being of a rough home down beneath Devon ^s lovely 
cliffs, where the sea ran sparkling over the clean-washed peb- 
bles, and the handsome face of Mary smiled upon each in turn. 

“ Abel, mate, I^m ready for anything now,” said Bart, as 
they went that morning to their work. “ Only say again as 
you forgive our lass.^^ 

“ Bart, old lad,^^ said Abel, hoarsely, IVe naught to for- 
give. ” 

‘‘ Ha!” ejaculated Bart, and then he began to whistle softly 
as if in the highest of spirits, and looked longingly in the direc- 
tion of the jungle beside the mud creek; but three days elapsed 
before they were set to hoe among the coffee bushes again. 

Bart let his chin go down upon his chest on the morning 
when the order was given, and the overseer saw it and cracked 
his whip. 

You sulky ruffian!” he cried. “ Hone of your sour looks 
with me. Get on with you!” 

He cracked his whip again, and Bart shuffled off, clinking 
his fetters loudly. 

“Do keep between us, Abel, lad,” he whispered, “or I 
shall go off and heffl see. Oh, Lor’, how I do -want to 
laugh!” 

He restrained his mirth for a time, and then walked on to 
the end of the plantation and began their task at the opposite 
end to where they had left off, when the rate at which their 
hoes were plied was such that they were not long before they 
began to near the dense jungle, beyond which lay the man- 
grove swamp and the sea. ^ 

“ I daren’t hope, Bart,” whispered Abel, so despondently 
that his companion, in a wildly excited manner, laughed in 
his face. 

“ What a lad you are!” he cried. “It’s all right; he’s 
waiting for us. It’s some sailor chap from Dartmouth, whose 
ship’s put in at Kingston or Belize. Che§r up, mate!” 

But it was all a mockery; and when they approached the 
jungle at last, hoeing more slowly — for, much as they longed 
to go up at once, they knew that any unusual movement on 
their part might be interpreted by watchful eyes into an at- 
tempt at escape and bring down upon them a shot — Bart’s 
voice trembled and sounded hoarsely as he said playfully: 

“ How, Abel, my lad, I’m going to talk to that there poll 
parrot. ” 

“Hush!” whispered Abel, agitatedly. “Keep on quietly 
with your work till we get close, and then call softly.” 


48 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ Oh, it^s all straight, lad,^' whispered back Bart, chopping 
away and breaking clods, as his fetters clanked more loudly 
than ever. Now, then, Polly! Pretty Polly, are you there 

‘‘Yes, yes, Bart. Abel, dear brother, at last, at last!^^ 
came from the jungle. 

“ Mary — Polly, my girl!^^ cried Abel, hoarsely, as he threw 
down his hoe; and he was running toward the jungle, where a 
crashing sound was heard, when Bart flung his strong arms 
across his chest and dashed him to the ground. 

“ Are you mad?’^ he cried. “ Mary, for God^s sake keep 
back!^^ 

The warning was needed, for from across the plantation the 
overseer and a couple . of soldiers came running, every move- 
ment on the part of the prisoners being watched. 

“ Sham ill, lad; sham ill,"’^ whispered Bart, as a piteous 
sigh came from the depths of the jungle. 

“ Now, then, you two. Fighting again?’^ roared the over- 
seer, as he came panting up. 

“ Fighting, sir!^’ growled Bart; “ rum fighting. He nearly 
went down.'’ 

“ He was trying to escape. 

“ Escape I growled Bart. “ Look at him. Sun^shot.-’^ 

The overseer bent down over Abel, whose aspect helped the 
illusion, for he looked ghastly from his emotion; and he had 
presence of mind enough to open his eyes, look about wildly 
from face to face, and then begin to struggle up, with one 
hand to his head. 

“ Is it the fayver, sor?^^ said one of the soldiers. 

“No. Touch of the sun,^^ said the overseer. “ They Ye 
always getting it. There, you Ye all right, arYY you?’^ 

“ Yes, sir,^^ said Abel, slowly, as he picked up his hoe. 

“Sit down under the trees there for a few minutes, said 
the overseer. “ Lend him your water-bottle, soldier. And 
you stop with him till heY better. ITl come back soon.'’^ 

This last was to Bart, playing, as it were, into the prisoners^ 
hands, for Bart took the water-bottle; and as the overseer 
went ofl with his guard, Abel was assisted to the edge of the 
jungle, where a huge cotton-tree threw its shade; and here 
Bart placed him on an old stump, trembling the while as he 
held the water to his companion^ lips. 

It was hard work to keep still while the others went out of 
hearing; but at last it seemed safe, and Abel panted out: 

“ Mary, dear, are you there 

“ Yes, yes, Abel. Oh, my dear brother, say one kind word 
to meT^ 


COMMODORE JDMK. 49 

Kind word? Oh, my lass, my lass, say that you forgive 
me!’^ 

Forgive you? Yes. But quick, dear, before those men 
come back. 

“ Tell me, then,^'’ said Abel, speaking with his back to the 
jungle, and his head bent down as if ill, while Bart leaned 
over him, trembling like a leaf, ‘‘ tell me how you came to be 
here.'’^ 

“ I came over in a ship to Kingston. Then I went to New 
Orleans. Then to Honduras. And it was only a fortnight 
•ago that 1 found you. 

“ But how did you come here?^^ 

IVe got a small boat, dear. I asked and asked for months 
before I could find out where you were. IVe been to other 
plantations, and people have thought me mad; but one day I 
stumbled across the sailors of a ship that comes here with 
stores from the station, and I heard them say that there were 
a number of prisoners working at this place; and at last, after 
waiting and watching for weeks and weeks, I caught sight of 
you two, and then it was a month before I could speak to 
you as I did the other day. 

“ And now you have come,^^ said Abel, bitterly, ‘‘ I can^t 
even look at you.'’^ 

But you will escape, dear,^^ said Mary. 

“ Escape I'’ cried Abel, excitedly. 

“ Steady, lad, steady. -"Member youTe ill,"' growled Bart, 
glancing toward the nearest sentry, and then holding up the 
bottle as if to see how much was within. 

“Yes, escape,"" said Mary. ‘‘ I have the boat ready. Can 
you come now?"" 

“ Impossible! We should be overtaken and shot before we 
had gone a mile. "" 

‘‘But you must escape,"" said Mary. “ You must get down 
here by night. " " 

“ How?"" said Bart, gruffly. 

“ You two must settle that,"" said Mary, quickly. “lam 
only a woman; but I have found means to .get here with a 
boat, and 1 can come again and again till you join me."" 

“ Yes,"" said Abel, decidedly; “ we will contrive that."" 

“ But is it safe, lass, where you are?"" . 

“ What do you mean?"" 

“ They telled us there was the crocodiles all along that creek, 
and sharks out beyond, if we tried to run."" 

“ Yes,"" said Mary, calmly, “ there are plenty of these creat- 
ures about."" 


50 


COMMODOEE JUNE. 


“Listen/^ said Abel, quickly, and speaking as decidedly 
now as his sister. “ Can you get here night after night 

‘ ‘ Yes, said Mary. ‘‘I have been here every night since 
I spoke to you last. 

“ Then keep on coming.-’^ 

“ Yes,^^ said Mary; “ I will till you escape."’^ 

“ You have the boat?'’^ 

‘‘Yes.^^ 

“ And provisions 

“Yes; a little.-’' 

\ “ But how do you manage?" 

“ I am fishing if any one sees me; but it is very lonely here. 

I see nothing but the birds," she added to herself, “ and sharks 
and alligators;" and as she said this she smiled sadly. 

“Be careful, then," said Abel. “Bart, old lad, we will 
escape. ' ’ 

There was a loud expiration of the breath from the Jungle, 
and Abel continued: 

“I must get up and go on work, or they will be back. 
Mary, once more, you have a boat?" 

“Yes." 

“ And can come up here and wait?" 

“Yes." 

Quick, short, decided answers each time. 

“ Then be cautious. Only come by night." 

“ I know. Trust me. I will not be seen. 1 will do noth- , 
ing rash. To-night, as soon as it grows dark, I shall be here 
expecting you, for I shall not stir. At day-break I shall go, 
and come again at night." 

“ And mind the sentries." 

^ ‘ Trust me, Abel. I shall not come now by day for six 
days. If at the end of six nights you have not been able to 
escape, I shall come for six days by day, hoping that you may 
be more successful in the daylight; for perhaps you will find 
that a bold dash will help you to get away." 

“ But the risk — the risk!" panted Abel — “ the risk, girl, to 
you!" 

“ Abel, dear, I am here to risk everything. I have risked 
everything to Join you.-’' 

“ Yes," he said, hoarsely. “ But afterward. If we do 
escape?" 

“ Leave the plans to, me," she said, with a little laugh. 

“ I have boat and sail, and the world is very wide. Only es- 
cape. Take care; the men are coming back." 

Mary's voice ceased; and Abel took hold of Bart’s arm,^ose. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


51 


raised his hoe, and walked with him to where they had left off 
work, to begin again slowly, the two men trembling with ex- 
citement now; for, as the overseer neared them, a bird began 
flying to and fro over the edge of the jungle, screaming wildly, 
evidently from the fact that somebody was hidden there. 

The excitement of the bird, whose nest was probably some- 
where near, did not, however, take the attention of the over- 
seer, who came up, followed by the Irish sentry, stared hard at 
Abel, gave a short nod as if satisfied that one of his beasts of 
burden was not going to permanently break down, and then, 
to the horror of the young men, took off his hat, began fan- 
ning himself, and went and sat down in the very spot where 
Abel had talked with his sister. 

“ Hot, Paddy, hot!^^ he said to the soldier. 

‘ ‘ Dinny, sor, av you plaze. Thrue for you, sor, and a taste 
of dhrink would be very nice for ye; but I shouldnT sit there. 

“Why not?^^ said the overseer. 

“ Because the place swarms with thim ugly, four-futted 
scaly divils. IVe gone the rounds here of a night, sor, and 
heard them snapping their jaws and thumping the wet mud 
with their tails till IWe shivered again.'''’ 

“ Yes, there^s plenty of them in the creek, Dinny. 

“ Plinty, sir, ’s nothing to it. There niver seems to have 
been a blessed St. Pathrick here to get rid of the varmin. 
Why, IVe seen frogs here as big as turtles, and sarpints that, 
would go round the Hill of Howth."’ 

“ Well, look here, Dinny, cock your piece, and if you see 
anything stir, let drive at it once. 

“ Oi will, sor,^^ said the soldier, obeying orders; and, tak- 
ing a step or two forward, he stood watchfully gazing into the 
dark jungle. 

“ Have you got your knife, Bart?” whispered Abel, whose 
face was of a peculiar muddy hue. 

Bart nodded as he chopped away. 

“ Shall we make a rush at. them, and stun them with the 
hoes?’" 

Bart shook his head. 

“ Mary’s too clever,” he whispered back. “ She’s well hid- 
den, and will not stir. ” 

“ If that Irish beast raises his musket I must go at him,” 
whispered Abel, who was trembling from head to foot. 

“ Hold up, man. She heer"d every word, and won’t stir.” 

“ Silence, there. Ko talking!” cried the overseer. 

“Let the poor divils talk, sor,” said the soldier. “Faix, 


52 


COMMODOKE JUKK. 


it^s bad enough to put chains on their legs; don^t but anny on 
their tongues/^ 

“ If I get you down/’ thought Abel, I won’t kill you, for 
that.” 

‘‘Against orders/’ said the overseer, good-humoredly. 
“ Well, can you see anything stirring?” 

“ Not yefc, sor; but I hope 1 shall. Bedad, I’d be glad of a 
bit o’ sport, for it’s dhry work always carrying a gun about 
widout having a shot. ” 

“ Yes; but when you do get a shot, it’s at big game, 
Dinny.” 

“ Yis, sor, but then it’s very seldom,” said the sentry, with 
a roguish twinkle of the eye. 

“ I can’t bear this much longer, Bart,” whispered Abel. 

‘ ‘ When I say Noiv ! rush at them both with your hoe. ” 

“Wait till he’s going to shoot, then,” growled Bart. 

The overseer bent down, and, sheltering himself beneath 
the tree, placed his hands out in the sunshine, one holding a 
roughly rolled cigar, the other a burning-glass, with which he 
soon focused the vivid white spot of heat which made the end 
of the cigar begin to smoke, the tiny spark being 'drawn into 
incandescence by application to the man’s lips, while the pleas- 
ant odor of the burning leaf arose. 

“ Sure, an’ that’s an illigant way of getting a light, sor,” 
said the sentry. 

“ Easy enough with such a hot sun,” said the overseer, 
complacently. 

“ Hot sun, sor! Sure I never carry my mushket here wid- 
out feeling as if it will go off in my hands; the barl gels nearly 
red-hot!” 

“ Yah! Don’t point it this way,” said the overseer, smok- 
ing away coolly. “ Well, can you see anything?” 

“ Divil a thing but that noisy little omadhaun of a bird. 
Sure, she’d be a purty thing to have in a cage.” 

Abel’s face grew more ghastly as he gazed at Bart, who re- 
mained cool and controlled him. 

“ Bart,” whispered Abel, with the sweat rolling off his face 
in beads, “ what shall we do?” 

“ Wait,” said the rough fellow, shortly; and he hoed away, 
with his fetters clinking, and his eyes taking in every move- 
ment of the two men; while involuntarily Abel followed his 
action in every respect, as they once more drew nearer to their 
task-master and his guard. 

“ There’s a something yonder, sor/’ said the soldier at last. 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 53 

Alligator said the overseer, lazily; and AbeFs heart 
rose so that he seemed as if he could not breathe. 

‘‘I can^t see what it is, sor; but it^’s a something, for the 
little burrud kapes darting down at it and floying up again. I 
belay ve it is one of they crockidills. Shall I shute the divil?^^ 
How can you shoot it if you can^t see it, you fool?^^ said 
the overseer. 

“ Sure, sor, they say that ivery bullet has its billet, and if I 
let the little blue pill out of the mouth o^ the mushket, faix, 
it^s a strange thing if it don^t find its way into that ugly scaly 
baste. 

The overseer took his cigar from his lips and laughed; but 
to the intense relief of the young men, perhaps to the saving 
of his own life, he shook his head. 

“ No, Dinny,^'’ he said, “ it would alarm the station. They^d 
think some one was escaping. Let it be. 

Dinny sighed, the overseer smoked on, and the hot silence 
of. the tropic clearing was only broken by the screaming and 
chattering of the excited bird, the hum of insects, and the 
clink-clank, thud-thud of fetters and hoe as the convicts 
toiled on in the glowing sun. 

They kept as near as they dared to their task-master, and 
he smiled superciliously as he put his own interpretation upon 
their acts. 

“ The artful scoundrels!^’ he said to himself; “they want 
me to believe that they always work like this. Well, ik helps 
the plantation;” and he smoked placidly on, little dreaming 
that every time Abel reversed his hoe, so as to break a clod 
with the back, the young man glanced at him and measured 
the distance between them, while he' calculated how long to 
hold the handle of the tool, and where would be the best place 
to strike the enemy so as to disable him at once. 

“You take the soldier, Bart,” said Abel, softly. “ I’ll 
manage the overseer. ” 

“ Eight, lad! but not without we’re obliged.” 

“ No. Then, as soon as they’re down, into the wood, find 
Mary, and make for her boat. ” 

The heat was intense, the shade beneath the great cotton- 
tree grateful, and the aroma of the cigar so delicious that the 
overseer sunk into a drowsy reverie; while the soldier gave the 
two convicts a half -laughing look and then turned to face the 
jungle, whose depths he pierced with his eyes. 

Bart drew a long breath and gazed toward the dark part of 
the jungle, and there was an intense look of love and satisfac- 
tion in his eyes as he tried to make out the place where Mary 


54 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


lay, as lie believed, hidden. The sight of the sentry on the 
watch with his gun ready had ceased to trouble him, for he 
had told himself that the clumsy fellow could not hit a barn- 
door, let alone a smaller mark; while Abel seemed to be less 
agitated, and to be resuming his normal state. 

They were not twenty yards from the edge of the forest now, 
the sentry^s back was toward them, and the overseer wa^s get- 
ting to the end of his cigar, and watching the watcher with 
half-closed eyes, and an amused smile upon his yellow counte- 
nance. 

“ Every bullet finds its billet,^'’ he muttered to himself; and, 
stretching himself, he was in the act of rising, when the bird, 
which had been silent, uttered a shrill, chattering cry, as if 
freshly disturbed, and the soldier shouted excitedly : 

“ Theer, sor, 1 can see it. A big one staling away among 
the threes. For the sake of all the saints give the wurrud!’^ 

‘‘ Fire, then!^^ cried the overseer; and the sentry raised his 
piece to the “ present. 

Bart W rigley had not been at sea from childhood without 
winning a sailor ^s eyes. Dark as the jungle was, and more 
distant as he stood, it was not so black that he could not make 
out the object which had taken the sentry ^s notice, and at 
which bie took aim. 

One moment Bart raised his hoe to rush at the man; the 
next he had brought it down heavily on AbeFs shoulders, send- 
ing him forward upon his face, and uttering a cry of rage as 
he fell. 

It was almost simultaneous. The cry uttered by Abel Dell 
and the report of the sentry’s piece seemed to smite the air 
together; but Abel’s cry was first, and disarranged the soldier’s 
aim, his bullet cutting the leaves of the jungle far above the 
ground. 

Look at that now!” he cried, as he turned sharply to see 
Abel struggling on the ground, with Bart holding him, and 
the overseer drawing a pistol from his breast. 

“ Lie still!” whispered Bart. “ It was not at Mary.” 

Then aloud: 

“ Quick, here! water! He’s in a fit!” 

As Abel grasped his friend’s thoughts he lay back, strug- 
gling faintly, and then half closed his eyes and was quite still. 

‘‘ It’s the sun, sir,” said Bart, as the overseer thrust back 
his pistol and came up. “ Hadn’t we better get him back to 
the lines y” 

“ Yes,” said the overseer. Poor devil! No, no! Back, 
back!” he roared, signaling with his hands as a sergeant’s 


COMMODORE JUl^K. 


55 


guard came along at the double. “ Nothing wrong. Only a 
man sick, and Dinny Kelly here had a shot at an alligator. 

“ An^ I should have hit him, sor, if he hadn-’t shouted. But 
think o^ that, now! The sun lights a gentleman’s cigar one 
minute, and shtrikes a man down the next. But it’s better 
than the yaller fayver, anyhow.” 

Five days had passed, and the prisoners were not sent again 
to the clearing, while, in spite of every effort, they found that 
their chances of eluding the guard set over them by night were 
small indeed. 

Fettered by day, they were doubly chained -by night. The 
building where they slept was strongly secured and guarded, 
and in spite of the newness of the settlement it was well chosen 
for its purpose, and stronger even than the prisoners thought. 

‘‘We shall never get away by night, Bart,” said Abel, 
gloomily, “ unless — ” 

He stopped and gazed meaningly at his companion. 

“ The knife?” responded Bart. “ No, lad, we won’t do 
that. I shouldn’t like to go to Mary wet with blood.” 

AbeFs countenance grew dark and deeply lined, for at that 
moment, in his despair and disappointment, he felt ready to 
go to any extremity, knowing, as he did, that his sister was 
waiting for him, holding out her hands and saying, “ Come!” 

Only another day, and then she would give up expecting 
them by night, and take to watching for them by day, when 
the attempt seemed hopeless. 

And so it proved, for during the following week the pris- 
oners were only once in the coffee plantation, and so strictly 
watched that they felt that to attempt an evasion was only to 
bring destruction upon their hopes, perhaps cause Mary’s im- 
prisonment for attempting to assist prisoners to escape. 

“ It’s of no use, Bart,” said Abel at last, despondently. 
“ Poor girl! Why did she come?” 

“ Help us away,” said Bart, gruffly. 

“ Yes, but all in vain.” 

“ Pshaw! Wait a bit. ” 

“ T)o you think she will still come and wait?” said Abel, 
dolefully. 

“ Do I think the sun’ll shine agen?” growled Bart. “ Here’s 
a fellow! Born same time as that there lass, lived with her all 
his days, and then he knows so little about her that he says, 
‘ Will she come agen?’ ” 

“ Enough to tire her out.” 

“Pshaw!” cried Bart again, “when you know she’ll keep 


56 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


on coming till she’s an old gray-headed woman, or she gets us 
away. ” 

Abel shook his head, for he was low-spirited, and not con- 
vinced; but that night his heart leaped, for as he lay half 
asleep, listening to the thin, buzzing hum of the mosquitoes 
which haunted the prisoners’ quarters, and the slow, tegular 
pace of the sentry on guard outside, there was the faint rattle 
of a chain, as if some prisoner had turned in his unquiet rest, 
and then all was silent again, till he started, for a rough hand 
was laid upon his mouth. 

His first instinct was to seize the owner of that hand, to en- 
gage in a struggle for his life; but a mouth was placed directly 
at his ear, and a well-known voice whispered : 

“ Don’t make a sound. Tie these bits of rag about your 
irons so as they won’t rattle. ” 

Abel caught at the pieces of cloth and canvas thrust into 
his hand, and, sitting up in the darkness, he softly bound the 
links and rings of his fetters together, hardly daring to breathe, 
and yet with his heart beating tumultuously in his anxiety to 
know his companion’s plans. 

For an attempt it must be, Abel felt, though up to the time 
of their going to rest after the day’s work Bart had said noth- 
ing to him. He must have made a sudden discovery, and 
there was nothing for it but to obey in every way and trust to 
what was to come. 

Abel felt this as he rapidly knotted the rag round his chains, 
and as he was tying the last knot he felt Bart’s hand upon his 
shoulder, and his lips at his ear. 

“ Quiet, and creep after me. Keep touching my foot so’s 
not to miss me in the dark.” 

Abel’s heart thumped against his ribs as he obeyed, taking 
Bart’s hand first in a firm grip, and then feeling a short iron 
bar thrust between his fingers. 

Then he became conscious from his companion’s movements 
that he had gone down upon his hands and knees, and was 
crawling toward the end of the long, low, stone- walled build- 
ing that served as a dormitory for the white slaves whose task 
was to cultivate the rough plantation till they, as a rule^, lay 
down and died from fever or some of the ills that haunted the 
tropic land. 

Just then Bart stopped short, for there were steps outside, 
and a gleam of light appeared beneath the heavy door. Voices 
were heard, and the rattle of a soldier’s musket. 

“ Changing guard,” said Abel to himself; and he found 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


57 


himself wondering whether the sergeant and his men would 
enter the prison. 

To add to the risk of discovery, there was a shuffling sound 
on the left, and a clink of chains, as one man seemed to rise 
upon his elbow; and his movement roused another, who also 
clinked his chains in the darkness and growled out an impreca- 
tion. 

All this time Bart remained absolutely motionless, and Abel 
listened with the perspiration streaming from him in the in- 
tense heat. 

Then there was a hoarsely uttered command; the light faded 
away, the steps died out upon the ear; there was a clink or 
two of chains, and a heavy sigh from some restless sleeper, and 
once more in the black silence and stifling heat- there was noth- 
ing to be heard but the loud trumpeting buzz of the mos- 
quitoes. 

Softly, as some large cat, Bart resumed his crawling move- 
ment, after thrusting back his leg and touching Abel on the 
chest with his bare foot as a Signal. 

The building was quite a hundred feet long by about eight- 
een wide, a mere gallery in shape, which had been lengthened 
from time to tinie as the number of convicts increased, and the 
men had about two thirds of the distance to traverse before 
they could reach the end, and at their excessively slow rate of 
progress the time seemed interminable before, after several 
painful halts, caused by movements of their fellow-prisoners 
and dread of discovery, the final halt' was made. 

“ Now, then, what is it?'^ whispered Abel. 

The answer he received was a hand laid across his mouth, 
and his heart began to beat more wildly than ever, for Bart 
caught his hand, drew it toward him, and as it was yielded, 
directed the fingers downward to the stone level with the floor. 

Abel’s heart gave another bound, for that stone was loose, 
and as he was pressed aside he heard a faint gritting, his com- 
panion’s breath seemed to come more thickly, as if from exer- 
tion, and for the next hour — an hour that seemed like twelve 
— Abel lay, unable to help, but panting with anxiety, as the 
gritting noise went on, and he could mentally see that Bart 
was slowly drawing out rough pieces of badly cemented stone 
— rough fragments really , of coral and limestone from the 
nearest roof, of which the prison barrack was built. 

Three times over Abel had tried to help, but the firm press- 
ure of his companion’s hand forcing him back spoke volumes, 
and he subsided into his position in the utter darkness, listen- 


58 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


ing with his pulses throbbing and subsiding, as the gritting 
sound was ihade or the reverse. 

At last, after what seemed an age, a faint breath of com- 
paratively cool air began to play upon his cheek, as Bart 
seemed to work steadily on. That breath grew brg.ader and 
fuller, and there was a soft odor of the sea mingled with the 
damp coolness of a breeze which had passed over the dewy 
ground before it began to set steadily in at the opening at 
which Bart had so patiently worked, for that there was an 
opening was plain enough now, as Abel exultantly felt. 

In his inaction the torture of the dread was intense, and he 
lay wondering whether, if they did get out, Mary would still 
be waiting, expecting them, or their efforts prove to have been 
vain. 

At last, just when he felt as if he could bear it no longer, 
Bart’s hand gripped him by the shoulder, and pressed him 
tightly. Then in the darkness his hand was seized and guided 
where it hardly wanted guiding, for the young man’s imagina- 
tion had painted all — to a rough opening level with the floor, 
a hole little larger than might have been made for fowls to 
pass in and out of a poultry-yard. 

This done, Bart gave him a thrust which Abel interpreted 
to mean, Go on.” 

Abel responded with another, to indicate, No; you go.” 

Bart gripped him savagely by the arm, and he yielded, crept 
slowly to the hole, went down upon his breast, and softly 
thrust his head through into the dank night air, to hear plainly 
the sighing and croaking of the reptiles in the swamp, and see 
before him the sparkling scintillations of the myriad fire-flies 
darting from bush to bush. 

He wormed himself on, and was about to draw forth one 
hand and arm, but always moving as silently as some nocturnal 
beast of prey, when it suddenly occurred to him that the glow 
of one of the fire-flies was unusually large; and before he had 
well grasped this idea there was the regular tramp of feet, and 
he knew that it was the lantern of the guard moving across to 
the prison barrack, and that they must come right past where 
he lay. 

He must creep back and wait; and as the steps steadily ap- 
proached and the tramp grew plainer he began to wriggle him- 
self through, getting his arm well in and his shoulders begin- 
ning to follow till only his head was outside, and the dull light 
of the lantern seeming to show it plainly, when to his horror 
he found that some portion of his garment had caught upon a 
rough projection and he was fast. 


COMMODORE JTJKK. 


50 


He made a tremendous effort, but could not drag it free, for 
his arms were pressed close to his sides and he was helpless. 
If Bart had known and passed a hand through, he might have 
freed him, but he could not explain his position; and all the 
time the guard was coming nearer and nearer, the lantern- 
light dancing upon the rough path, and it would be hardly 
possible for the nearest soldier to pass him without stumbling 
against his head. 

Discovery, extra labor, the lash, more irons, and the chance 
of evasion gone: all these displayed, as it were, before Abel 
Dell’s gaze as he thought of his sister waiting for them with 
that boat — all plainly seen by the gleaming light of that lan- 
tern as the soldiers came steadily on. 

It was absolutely impossible that the sergeant and his four 
men, whom the light had revealed quite plainly to Abel Dell, 
could pass him without something unusual occurred. The 
sergeant was carrying the lantern swinging at arm’s-length, 
on his left side, and the bottom, as he passed, would only be a 
few inches above the prisoner’s head. 

Abel knew all this, as he pressed his teeth together to keep 
down the agonizing feeling of despair he felt already as the 
men came on in regular pace, with the barrels of the muskets 
and their bayonets gleaming; and he expected to hear an ex- 
clamation of astonishment with the command Halt!” — when 
something unusual did happen. 

For all at once, just as the back of Abel’s head must have 
loomed up like a black stone close by the sergeant’s path, and 
the rays of light glistened on his short, crisp black hair, there 
came a loud croaking bellow from down in the swamp by the 
creek, and Dinny exclaimed aloud: 

Hark at that now!” 

‘‘ Silence in the ranks!” cried the sergeant, fiercely; and 
then, as if the Irishman’s words were contagious, he, turning 
his head as did his men toward the spot whence the sound pro- 
ceeded, exclaimed, “ What was it?” 

“ One of them lovely crockidills, sergeant dear — the swate 
craytures, with that plisant smile they have o’ their own. Hark 
at him again!” 

The same croaking roar arose, but more distinct, as if it 
were the response to a challenge. 

“ Don’t it carry you home again, sergeant dear?” 

Silence in the — How, Dinny?” said the sergeant, good- 
humoredly, for the men were laughing. 

‘‘ Why, niy mother had a cow — a Kerry cow, the darlint — 
and Farmer Magee, half a mile across the bog, had a bull; 


60 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


and you could hear him making love to her at toimes just like 
that, and moighty plisant it was/^ 

And used he to come across the bog/^ said the sergeant, 

to court her?^^ 

"‘And did he come across the bog to coort her!^’ said 
Dinny, with a contemptuous tone in his voice. “ And could 
you go across a bog coorting if Farmer Magee had put a ring 
through your nose and tied you to a post, sergeant dear? Oh, 
no! The farmer was moighty particular about that bulFs 
morals, and niver let him out of a night. 

“Silence in the ranks! ^Tention!^^ said the sergeant. 
“Half left r 

Tramp — tramp — tramp — tramp ; and the men passed round 
the end of the building just as the alligator bellowed again. 

Abel drew a long breath and rapidly drew himself through 
the hole — no easy task — and Bart began to follow, but only to 
stick before he was half-way through. 

“ h’m at.it again, he whispered. “Natur^ made me 
crooked o^ purpose to go wrong at times like this.'’^ 

Abel seized his hands, as he recalled the incident at the cot- 
tage. 

“ Now,^^ he whispered, “ both together — hard!^^ 

Bart gave himself a wrench as his companion tugged tre- 
mendously, and the resistance was overcome. 

“ Half my skin,^’ growled Bart, as he struggled to his feet 
and stood by his companion. “ Now, lad, this way.'’^ 

“No, no; that^s the way the soldiers have gone. 

“ It^s the only way, lad. The dogs are yonder, and we 
couldn't get over the palisade. Now!" 

They crept on in silence, seeing from time to time glints of 
the lantern, and in the midst of the still darkness matters 
seemed to be going so easily for them that Abel’s heart grew 
more regular in its pulsation, and he was just asking himself 
why he had not had invention enough to contrive this evasion, 
when a clear and familiar voice cried, “ Shtand!" and there 
was the click of a musket-lock. 

What followed was almost momentary. 

Bart struck aside the bayonet leveled at his breast, and 
leaped upon the sentry before him, driving him backward and 
clapping his hand upon his mouth as he knelt upon his chest; 
while, ably Seconding him, his companion wrested the musket 
from the man's hand, twisted the bayonet from the end of the 
barrel, and, holding it daggerwise, pressed it against the man's 
throat. 

“ Hold aside, Bart," whispered Abel, savagely. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


61 


No, no,^' growled Bart. ‘‘No blood, lad.^’ 

“ ’Tis for our lives and liberty whispered Abel, fiercely. 

“ Ay, but — growled Bart. “ Lie still, will you!^^ he 
muttered, as fiercely as his companion, for the sentry had given 
a violent heave and wrested his mouth free.. 

“ Sure, an^ ye won^t kill a poor boy that how, gintlemen,^^ 
he whispered, piteously. 

“ Another word, and it’s your last!” hissed Abel. 

“ Sure, and I’ll be as silent as Pater Mulloney’s grave, sor,” 
whispered the sentry; “but it’s a mother I have over in the 
owld country, and ye’d break her heart if ye killed me. ” 

“ Hold your tongue!’’ whispered Bart. 

“ Sure, and I will, sor. It’s not meself as would stop a 
couple of gintlemen from escaping. There’s the gate, gin tie- 
men. Ye’ve got my mushket, and I can’t stop you. ” 

“Yes, come along,” whispered Bart. 

“ What! and leave him to give the alarm?” said Abel. 
“ We’re wasting time, man. ’Tis his life or ours.” 

“ Not at all, sor,” whispered the sentry, pleadingly. “ I 
won’t giv6 the alarm, on my banner; and you can’t kill a boy 
widout letting him just say, ‘ How d’ye do?’ and ‘ Which is 
the way yander?’ to the praste.” 

“ Shall we trust him?” said Bart, in a low growl. 

“No!” 

“ Thin take me wid ye, gintlemen. Paix, ye might force 
me to go, for the divil a bit do I want to shtay here.” 

“ Look here,” wLispered Bart; “it’s neck or nothing, my 
lad. If you give the alarm, it will be with that bayonet struck 
through you.” 

“ And would a Kelly give the alarm, afther he said on his 
banner? Sure, you might thrust me.” 

“ Over with you, then, Bart,” whispered Abel; “ I’ll stand 
over him here. Take the gun.” 

Bart obeyed, and Abel stood with one hand upon the sen- 
try’s shoulder, and the bayonet close to his throat. 

“ An’ is that the way you thrust a gintleman?” said Dinny, 
contemptuously, as Bart, with all a sailor’s and rock-climber’s 
activity, drew himself up, and dropped from the top of the 
wall at the side. 

“ Now, you over,” whispered Abel. “We shall take you 
with us till we’re safe; but so sure as you give warning of our 
escape, you lose your life!” 

“Ah! ye may thrust me,” said the sentry, quickly. “Is 
it over wid me?” 

“ Yes; quick!” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


62 

The man scaled the gate as easily as Bart had done before 
him, and then Abel followed; but as he reached the top and 
shuffled sidewise to the wall, which he bestrode, there was the 
sound of a shot, followed by another, and another, and the 
fierce baying of dogs. 

Bedad, they\e seen yQ,” said the sentry, as Abel dropped 
down. 

‘‘ They\e been in the barrack, whispered Bart. 

To be sure they have, sor; the sergeant was going round. 

“ Quick, take his hand!^^ said Bart. 

No!^^ whispered Abel, leveling the bayonet. 

“ No, no; for my mother^s sake, sor!^^ cried the sentry, 
piteously. She has only six of us, and Tm one.'’^ 

“ Put away that bagnet!^^ said Bart, hoarsely. “ Take his 
hand, and run!^^ 

‘‘ That^s it, sor, at the double,^^ said the sentry, rising from 
his knees, where he had flung himself. ‘‘I’m wid ye to the 
end of the world. It’s a place I know, and — ” 

“ Silence!” hissed Abel, as there was the loud clanging of 
a bell with the fierce yelping of dogs, and they dashed off, 
hand joined in hand, for the coffee plantation, away down by 
the cane-brake and the swamp. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE PURSUIT. 

The hue and cry rose louder and louder as the fugitives ran 
laboriously toward the jungle-brake. Lights could be seen; a 
signal-gun was fired, and the little colony was up in arms, 
ready to hunt down the escaped criminals, lest they should 
take to the forest, from whence, after a time, they would issue 
forth as wild beasts. But in the darkness of that tropic night 
there would have been little danger of a recapture but for 
those sounds which told the evading men that their greatest 
enemies were now afoot — those who could hunt them down 
without light or sight, but would track them by scent with the 
greatest ease. 

“ Hark at that, now!” said the Irishman, as he ran on, step 
by step with the escaping prisoners. “D’ye hear the dogs giv- 
ing tongue? They haven’t got the scent right yet, me boys; 
but they’ll have it soon. G’long; ye don’t half run. ” 

He ceased speaking for a few moments, and then continued, 
apologetically: 

“ Faix, and it’s meself forgot. Ye’ve got the bilboes an, 
and they make it bad running. There, d’ye hear the dogs? 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


63 


It^s like having the hounds back at home, before I ^listed for 
a soger, and got sent out here. Run, ye divils, run ! But, I 
say: if we^re tuk, and it comes to a thrial — court-martial, ye 
know — be fair to a boy, now, won^t ye?'’^ 

What do you mean?’^ said Bart, gruffly. 

‘‘ Remimber that it was you made me desart. I couldn^t 
help meself, could 

Bart did not answer, but kept on with his steady, lumbering 
trot, which was the more laborious to him from the shortness 
of his fetters making it difficult to him to keep up with his 
companions. 

Bedad, they^re well on the scent ‘said the Irishman, gaz- 
ing back as he ran; “ and itffi not be long before theyh-e up 
with us. What^ll we do at all?^’’ 

“ Do?'’^ said Bart, gruffly; “ leave you to tell that cursed 
brute, that we shaffi^t want his whip any more; for — 

“ Hush!’^ cried Abel. 

‘‘ Ay, 1 forgot, said Bart, nodding his head. 

We^ll have to get up the trees before the dogs reach us, or 
it^ll be awkward for the whole three. They’ll forget to re- 
spect the king’s uniform in the dark. It’s no good, my lads; 
they’ll take us, and ye’ve had all your trouble for nothing. 
Faix, and I’m sorry for ye, whativer ye did, for it’s a dog’s 
life ye lead.” 

“ Silence, man,” whispered Abel. “ Do you want the dogs 
to be on us?” 


“ Divil a bit, sor; but they’ll be down on us soon widout 
hearing us talk. Murther, but it’s a powerful shense of 
shmell they have. How they are coming on!” 

It was quite true. The dogs were after them with unerring 
scent, and but for the fact that they were in leashes so that 
those who held them back might be able to keep up, they 
would have soon overtaken the fugitives. They were at no 
great distance as it was, and their baying, the encouraging 
shouts of their holders, and the sight of the lanterns rising and 
falling in the darkness, helped the Irishman’s words to send 
despair into the fugitives’ hearts. 

Sure, and we’re in the coffee-tree gyarden!” said the sen- 
try. “ Oi know it by the little bits o’ bushes all in rows. 
Thin the wood isn’t far, and we’ll get up a tree before the 
bastes of dogs come up to us. Hark at the onnat’ral bastes; 
sure, it’s supper they think they’re going to have. May be 
they’d like to taste a Kelly. ” 

nninlr t 


64 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ And is it let me go?^’ said tlie sentry, excitedly. “ You^d 
niver be such cowards. Let the dogs have fair play.’’^ 

Silence cried Abel, imperatively. 

“ Sure it^s meself that^s the most silent. 

Abel! — Bart! This way!’^ 

“ To the left, lad,^^ cried Bart, for they had now reached 
the edge of the jungle; and just as despair was filling their 
breasts, for Mary made no sign, her voice proved her fidelity 
by its being heard some distance to their left. 

“ Thin it^s all right, said Dinny, excitedly. ‘‘ Ye’ye got 
friends waiting?” 

Silence, I say!” oried Abel. 

‘‘ Sure, and L’ll hold my pace, and good luck to ye, for I 
heard the boy’s spache, and may be he has a boat waiting down 
by the wather. ” 

‘‘ Will you be silent, man?” cried Abel, fiercely, as the bay- 
ing of the dogs increased. ‘‘ Bart, we must not go ony for it 
would be bringing the dogs upon some one else.” 

Not it,” said Dinny; ‘‘ ye’ve plenty of time yet, may be. 
Go along, me boys, arid bad luck to the dogs, for they’ll be 
disappointed aftber all!” 

Abel gave a low, peculiar whistle bke a sea-biini’s cry, and it 
was answered not twenty yards away. 

“ Here, quick!” came in the well-known voice; I’m here. 
Jump; never mind the mud!” 

They all jumped together, to find themselves in a miry 
place, where Mary was waiting. 

“ This way,” she said. I can guide you direct to the boat. 
Quick, or the dogs will be upon us!” 

“ Well done, boy!” cried Dinny. That’s good. I knew 
there was a boat. ” 

“ And now,” cried Abel, turning upon him, “ off with that 
pouch and belt.” 

“ Certainly, sor,” replied Dinny, slipping off and handing 
his cartridge-bag. 

“ Now, back to 3^our friends, and tell them we’re gone.” 

‘"My friends!” cried Dinny. “Sure, there isn’t a friend 
among them.” 

“ Stop back, then, whoever they are.” 

“ But the dogs, sor!” 

“ Curse the dogs. Back, I say!” 

“ But, sor, they’re the most savage of bastes. They won’t 
listen to anny explanation, but pull a man down before he has 
time to say. Heaven presarve us!” 

“ Silence, and go!” 


OOMMODOKE JUNK. 


65 


“ Nay, sor, ye’ll tak’ me vvid ye, now? Quick! ye’re losing 
time.” 

“ Let him come, Abel,” whispered Mary. 

“ That’s well spoken, young sor. And if we’re to have 
whole shkins, let’s be getting on.” 

Tiie advice was excellent, for the sounds of pursuit were 
close at hand, and the dogs were baying as if they heard as 
well as scented their prey. 

“ All’s ready,” whispered Mary. I heard the shots, and 
knew you were coming. Abel, your hand. Join hands all.” 

Abel caught at that of his sister, at the same time extending 
his own, which was taken by Bart, and he in turn, almost in- 
voluntarily, held out his to Dinny. 

In this order they passed rapidly through the jungle, along 
the beaten track formed by the animals which frequented the 
place, and one which during her long, patient watches had be- 
come perfectly familiar to Mary Dell, who threaded it with 
ease. 

It was one wild excitement, for the dogs were now growing 
furious. The scent was hot for them, and ere the fleeing 
party had reached the creek the fierce brutes had gained the 
edge of the jungle, through which they dragged their keepers, 
who mingled words of encouragement with oaths and curses as 
they were brought into contact with the tangled growth. 

But all the same the hunt was hot, and in spite of Mary’s 
foresight and the maimer in which she guided her friends, the 
dogs were nearly upon them as the boat was reached. 

In first,” whispered Abel; but Mary protested and would 
have hung back had not Bart lifted her bodily in after wading 
into the mud, where he stood and held the side of the frail 
canoe. 

“ Now, Abe,” he whispered. 

“I can hear them,” shouted a voice. “Loose the dogs. 
Seize ’em, boys, seize ’em!” 

“ Here, room for me?” whispered Dinny. 

“No,” cried Abel, fiercely. “ Keep back!” ^ 

“ I’m coming wid you,” cried Dinny. 

Bart caught him by the shoulder. 

“ No, no, my lad, we’re escaping; this is no place for you.” 

“ Be my sowl, this isn’t,” said Dinny, shaking himself free, 
and seizing the side of the boat he began to wade and thrust 
her from the shore. “ In with you too. ” 

Bart said no more, but followed the Irishman’s example, 
and together they waded on into the muddy creek, only to get 
a few yards from the shore, as with a furjous rush the dogs 


66 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


crushed through the canes and reeds, to stop, breast- deep, 
barking savagely. 

“ Purty creatures whispered Dinny. “ Sure, and we 
mustn’t get in yet, or, if we do, it must be together. Push 
her on. ” 

‘‘ Halt, there!” cried a loud voice, suddenly. ‘‘ I have you. 
Down, dogs! Do you hear? Halt!” 

“ Kape on,” whispered Dinny. 

“Make ready!” cried the same voice. “Present! Will 
you surrender?” 

“ Lie down, me darlin’s,” whispered Dinny. “ Divil a bit 
can they see where to shoot. ” 

“Fire!” cried the same voice, and a dozen flashes of light 
blazed out of the cane-brake. There was a roar that seemed 
deafening, and the darkness was once more opaque. 

“Anybody hit?” whispered Dinny. “Silence gives con- 
sint,” he added to himself. “ Push along, and as soon as it’s 
deep enough weTl get in. Ugh! bedad, it’s up to me chin all 
at wanst,” he muttered. “ Can yon give a boy a hand?” 

A hand caught his wrist, and he was helped over the stern 
of the boat, dripping and panting, as Bart scrambled in simul- 
taneously, and though the little vessel threatened to overset, it 
held firm. 

Then another volley was fired, for the bullets to go bursting 
through the canes, but over the fugitives’ heads, and once 
more darkness reigned over the hurried buzz of voices and the 
furious baying of the dogs. 

Order after order came from the soft, marshy land at the 
edge of the creek, mingled with shouts at the dogs, which were 
now loose, and barking and yelping as they 'ran here and there 
at the side of the water, where their spl^hing could be heard 
by those in the boat, which was being propelled slowly and 
cautiously by Mary, who knelt in the prow and thrust a pole 
she carried down in the mud. 

The baying of the dogs as they kept) making rushes through 
the canes gave the pursuers some clew as to where the fugi- 
tives wouM be; and from time to time, after a command given 
to the escaping men to surrender, a volley was fired, the 
bright flashes from the muskets cutting the darkness, and 
showing where their danger lay. 

It was slow work for both parties, the pursuers having to 
force their way painfully through the tangled growth, while 
the heavily laden boat had to be propelled through what was in 
places little more than liquid mud full of fibrous vegetation, 
and what had been but a light task to Mary when she was 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


67 


alone, proved to be almost beyond her strength with so heavy 
a load. 

‘‘Are you going right?'' whispered Abel at last, for they 
were hardly moving, and it seemed to him that they were run- 
ning right in among the growth that whispered and creaked 
against the boat. 

“ Yes; be patient," was the stern reply. 

“ 1 can see them. They're wading yonder in the mud up 
to their waists. " 

“ There they are," came from apparently close at hand, 
and the dogs burst out mere furiously than ever. “Now,, 
then, you scoundrels, we can see you. Give up. " 

“ Faith, and it's a cat he is," whispered Dinny. “ What a 
foine senthry he'd make for night duty!" 

“ Surrender!" shouted the same voice, “ or we'll blow you 
out of the water." 

“ The ugly, yellow-faced divil!" muttered Dinny. 

“ Now, then, come ashore, and 1 will not be so severe with 
you." 

“ Hark at that, now," whispered Dinny to Bart. “ It's a 
baby he thinks ye, afther all." 

“ Curse them! Fire then, sergeant," cried the overseer. 
“No mercy now. " 

“ Down, dogs!" roared the man again. “ Quick, there — 
fire!" 

A rattling volley from close at hand rang' out, and it was 
followed by utter silence, as if those ashore were listening. 

“ Curse your stupid fellows, sergeant! Why don't you 
make them fire lower?" 

“ If they fired lower, we should have hit the dogs, sor." 

“ Hang the dogs! I wanted you to. hit the men. Now, 
then, fire again. " 

There was the rattling noise of the ramrods in the barrels as 
the men loaded, and once more silence. The sinuous nature 
of the muddy creek had brought the fugitives terribly near to 
the dense brake; but Mary's pole remained perfectly motion- 
less, and there was nothing to be done but wait till the party 
moved on, when there would be a chance to get lower down 
toward the open sea; while, after the next quarter of a mile, 
the creek opened out into quite a little estuary dotted by sand- 
banks and islets of bamboos and palms. 

“ Now I have them!" cried the overseer, suddenly. “ Bring 
a gun, sergeant. I can pick off that fellow easily." 

“Faith, and what a foine liar he would make wid a little 


68 


COMMODORE JUNK, 


training/^ whispered Dinny. Why, I can^t even see my 
hand before me face. ” 

“ Hush,” whispered Bart, and then he half started up in 
the boat, for there was a sudden splashing, a shout, and the 
piteous yelping and baying of a dog, wliich was taken up in 
chorus by the others present. 

Yelp — bark — howl, accompanied by the splashing and beat- 
ing of water, and rustling of reeds and canes, and then a chok- 
ing, suffocating sound, as of some animal being dragged under 
water, after which the dogs whined and seemed to be scuffling 
away. 

“ What^s the matter with the dogs?^^ said the overseer. 

“One of those beasts of alligators dragged the poor brute 
down,” said the sergeant. “ It struck me with its tail.” 

There was a rushing, scuffling noise here, and the heavy 
trampling of people among the tangled growth, growing more 
distant moment by moment, in the midst of which Mary began 
to use her pole, and the boat glided on through the thick, half- 
liquid mud. 

“ Sure, an^ it’s plisant,” said Dinny, coolly; “ the dogs on 
one side, and the crockidills on the other. It isn’t at all a 
tempting spot for a bathe; but I’ve got to have a dip as soon 
as we get out of this into the sea.’’ 

“ What for?’^ whispered Bart. 

“ Bekase I’m wet with fresh wather and mud, and I’m a 
man who likes a little salt outside as well as in. It kapes off 
the ugly fayvers of the place. Do you want me to catch a 
cowld?” 

“ Silence, there!” said Mary, gruffly, from her place in the 
prow; and for quite an hour she toiled on through, the intense 
darkness, guiding the boat from the tangle of weedy growth 
and cane into winding canal-like portions of the lagoon, where 
every now and then they disturbed some great reptile, which 
plunged into deeper water with a loud splash, or wallowed fur- 
ther among the half-liquid mud. 

The sounds ashore grew distant, the firing had ceased; and, 
feeling safer, the little party began to converse in a low tone, 
all save Dinny, whose deep, regular breathing told that he had 
fallen fast asleep in happy carelessness of any risk that he 
might run. 

“ How came you out here?” said Bart from his seat, after 
another vain effort to take Mary’s place. 

“ Ship,” she said, laconically, and with a hoarse laugh. 

“ But who gave you a passage?” said Abel. 

“ Gave! No one,” she said, speaking in quite a rough tono 


COMMODORE JUNK. 69 

of voice. “How could I find friends who would give! I 
worked my way out. 

“ Oh/^ said Bart; and he sat back, thinking and listening 
as the pole kept falling in the water with a rhythmic splash, 
and the brother and sister carried on a conversation in a low 
tone. 

“ 1 suppose we are safe now,” said Mary. “ They never 
saw the boat, and they would think you are hiding somewhere 
in the woods. 

“ Yes; and because they donT find us, theyTl think the alli- 
gators have pulled us down,” replied Abel. “ Where are we 
going?” 

“ To get right down to the mouth of this creek, and round 
the shore. There are plenty of hiding-places along the coast. 
Inlets and islands, with the trees growing to the edge of the 
sea. ” 

“ And what then?” said Abel. 

“ What then?” said Mary, in a half- wondering tone. 

“ Yes; where shall we go?” 

There was an interval of silence, during which the boat glid- 
ed on in the darkness, which seemed to be quite opaque. 

“ I had not thought of that,” said Mary, in the same short, 
rough voice which she seemed to have adopted. ‘ ‘ I only 
thought of finding you, Abel, and when I had found you, of 
helping you to escape.” 

“ She never thought of me,” muttered Bart, with a sigh. 

“ Good girl,” said Abel, tenderly. 

“Hush! Don’t say that,” she cried, shortly. “Who is 
this man with you?” she whispered then. 

“One of the sentries.” 

“ Why did you bring him?” 

“We were obliged to bring him, or — ” 

“ Kill him?” said Mary, hoarsely, for her brother did not 
end his sentence. 

“Yes.” 

“ You must set him ashore, of course.” 

“ Yes, of course. And then?” 

“ I don’t know, Abel. I wanted to help you to escape, and 
you have escaped. You must do the rest. ” 

“ You’re a brave, true girl,” said Abel, enthusiastically; 
but he was again checked shortly. 

“ Don’t say that,” cried Mary, in an angry tone. 

“ What’s she mean?” thought Bart; and he lay back won- 
dering, while the boat glided on, and there was a long pause, 
for Abel ceased speaking, and when his deep breathing took 


70 COMMODORE JUNK. 

Bart's attention and he leaned forward and touched him there 
was no response. 

“ Why, he's fallen asleep, Mary!" said Bart, in a whisper. 

“ Hush, Bart — don't call me that!" came from the prow. 

“ All right, my lass!" said the rough fellow. “ I'll do any- 
thing you tells me. " 

“ Then don’t say ‘ my lass ' to me." 

“ I won't if you don't wish it," growled Bart. ‘‘ Here, let 
me pole her along now." 

“No; sit still. Is that man asleep?" 

“ Yes; can't you hear? He's fagged out like poor old 
Abel. But let me pole the boat." 

“No; she’ll drift now with the current and we shall be car- 
ried out to sea. If the people yonder saw us then they would 
not know who was in the boat. You have escaped, Bart!" 

“ Ay, we've escaped, my — " 

“ Hush, 1 say!" cried Mary, imperiously; and Bart, feeling 
puzzled, rubbed one ear and sat gazing straight before him 
into the darkness where he knew the girl to be, his imagina- 
tion filling up the blanks, till he seemed to see her standing 
up in the boat, with a red worsted cap perched jauntily upon 
her raven-black hair, and a tight, blue knitted jacket above 
her linsey-woolsey skirt, just as he had seen her hundreds of 
times ill her father's, and then in Abel's boat at home on the 
Devon shore. 

All at once Bart Wrigley opened his eyes and stared. Had 
he been asleep and dreamed that he and Abel had escaped,'and 
then that he was in the Dells' boat, with Mary poling it along? 

What did it all mean? He was in a boat, and behind him 
lay back the soldier with his mouth open, sleeping heavily. 
On his left was Abel Dell, also sleeping as a man sleeps who is 
utterly exhausted by some terrible exertion. But that was 
not the Devon coast upon which the sun was shedding its early 
morning rays. Dense belts of mangrove did not spread their 
muddy roots like intricate rustic scaffoldings on southern En- 
glish shores, and there were no clusters of alligators lying here 
and there amwig the mud and ooze. 

It was true enough. They did escape in the night, and 
Mary had been there ready to help them with a boat; but 
where was she now? and who was this sturdy youth in loose 
petticoat-canvas trousers and heavy fisherman's boots? 

Bart stared till his eyes showed a ring of white about their 
p^upils, and his mouth opened roundly in unison for a time. 
Then e 3 "es and mouth closed tightly, and wrinkles appeared 


COMMODORE JITKK. 71 

all over his face, as he softly shook all over, and then, after 
glancing at Abel and the Irish soldier, he uttered a low — 

‘‘ Haw, haw!^^ 

The figure in the boat swung round and faced him sharply, 
glancing at the two sleeping men, and holding up a roughened 
brown hand to command silence. 

“ All right,^^ said Bart, half choking with mirth; and then, 
“ Oh, I say, my lass, you do look rum in them big boots!^^ 

“Silence, idiot!^'’ she whispered, sharply. “Do you want 
that strange man to know?^^ 

“Nay, not said Bart, shortly, as he too glanced at 
Dinny. “ But 1 say, you do look rum.^^ 

“ Bart,^^ whispered Mary, fiercely, and her eyes hashed with 
indignant anger, “ is this a time to fool?^^ 

“ Nay, my lass, nay,^^ he said, becomirfg sober on the in- 
stant. “ But you do look so rum. I say, though,^^ ho cried, 
sharply, “ what^s goue of all your beautiful long hair?^^ 

“ Fire,"^ said Mary, coldly. 

“ Fire! what! — you\e cut it off and burned it?’^ 

Mary nodded. 

“ Oh!^^ ejaculated Bart, and it sounded like a groan. 

“ Could a girl with long hair have worked her passage out 
here as a sailor-boy, and have come into that cane-brake and 
saved you two?'^ said Mary, sharply; and as Bart sat staring 
at her with dilated eyes once more, she bent down after gazing 
at Dinny, still soundly sleeping, and laid her hand with a firm 
grip on her brother’s shoulder. 

He started ijito wakefulness on the instant, and gazed with- 
out recognition in the face leaning over him. 

“ Don’t you know me, Abel?” said Mary, sadly. 

“ You, Mary? — dressed like this?” 

He started up angrily, his face fiushiiig as hers had flushed, 
and his look darkened into a scowl. 

“ What else could 1 do?” she said, repeating her defense as 
she had pleaded to Bart. Then, as if her spirit rebelled 
against his anger, her eyes flashed with indignation, and she 
exclaimed hoarsely, “ Well, I have saved you, and if you have 
done with me— there is the sea!” 

“ But you — dressed as a boy!” said Abel. 

“Hush! Do you want that man to know?” whispered 
Mary, hoarsely. “ My brother was unjustly punished and 
sent out here to die in prison, while I, a helpless girl, might 
have starved at home, or been hunted down by that devil who 
called himself a man. What could I do?” 


72 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


“ But you worked your passage out here as a sailor?'^ whis- 
pered Abel. 

Ay, and she could do it, too — as good a sailor as ever took 
in sail; and, Mary, lass, I asks your pardon for laughing; and 
if I wasn^t such a big ugly chap, I could lie down there and 
cry."’ 

He held out his great coarse hand, in which Mary placed 
hers to return his honest clasp, and her eyes smiled for a mo- 
ment into his, while Abel sat frowning and biting his lips as 
he glanced at Hinny. 

“ I don’t know what to do,” he said, hesitatingly. ‘‘ It 
seems — ” 

“ Heigh — ho — ho! Oh, dear me!” cried Hinny, opening 
his eyes suddenly, making Mary start and Abel mutter a curse. 

There was only One of the two equal to the emergency, and 
that was Bart, who gave his knee a sounding slap and cried 
aloud : 

“ Jack Hell, my lad, you’ve behaved like a trump, and got 
us away splendid. I only wish, Abel, 1 had such a brother. 
Halloo, soger, where shall we set you ashore?” 

“ Set me ashore?” said the Irishman, nodding at Mary; 
“ what for?” 

“ What for?” cried Bart. “ To go back.” 

‘‘ I’m not going back,” said the Irishman, laughing. 
“ Sure, I want a change.” 

“ Change!” cried Abel. ‘‘ You can’t go with us.” 

“ Sure, and you forced me to come, and ye wouldn’t behave 
so dirthily as to send me back?” 

“ But we’re escaping,” said Bart. 

“Sure, and I’ll escape too,” said Hinny, smiling. “It’s 
moighty dull ^vork stopping there. ” 

“ But you’re a soldier,” said Abel. 

“ To be sure I am — a sowldier of fortune.” 

“ You’ll be a deserter if you stop with us,” growled Bart. 

“ The divil a bit! Ye made me a prishner, and I couldn’t 
help meself.” 

“ Why, I wanted you to go back last night!” growled Bart. 

“ To be ate up entoirely by the ugly bastes of dogs! Thank 
ye kindly, sor, I’d rather not.” 

Hinny looked at Mary, and gave her a droll cock of the eye, 
which made her frown and look uneasy. 

“Sure, Misther Jack,” he said, coolly, “don’t you think 
they’re a bit hard on a boy?” 

“ Hard?” said Mary, shortly. 

“ Av coorse. They knocked me down and took away me 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


73 


mushket and bagnefc, and there they are in the bottom of the 
boat. Then they made me get over the gate and eshcape wid 
^em; and, now they're safe, they want to put me ashore.^' 

‘‘ We can't take you with us," said Abel, shortly. 

“ Aisy, now! Think about it, sor. Ye're going for a holi- 
day, sure; and under the circumstances I'd like one too. 
There! I see what ye're a- thinking — that I'd bethray ye. 
Sure, and I'm a Kelly, and ye never knew a Kelly do a dirthy 
thrick to any one. Did I shout for help last night when you 
towld me not?" 

“You were afraid," growled Bart. 

“ Afraid! — me afraid! Did ye ever hear of a Kelly who was 
afraid? No, sor; I said to meself, ‘ The poor boys arp mak- 
ing a run for it, and I'll let them go. ' Sure, and I did, and 
here ye are." 

“It would not be wise to go near the shore now," said 
Mary, in a whisper to her brother. “ You have nothing to 
fear from him. " 

Abel glanced at the happy, contented face before him, and 
then turned to Bart. 

“ What do you say?" he asked. 

“There's no harm in him," said Bart, with a suspicious 
look at the Irishman. 

“ Sure, an' ye'll find me very useful," said Dinny. “ I was 
at say before I 'listed, so I can steer and haul a rope." 

“ Can you keep faith with those who trust you?" said Mary, 
quickly. 

“ And is it a Kelly who can keep faith, me lad? Sure, an' 
we're the faithfulest people there is anywhere. And, bedad! 
but you're a handsome boy, and have *a way wid you as'll 
make some hearts ache before ye've done." 

Mary started, and turned of a deep, dark red, which showed 
through her sun-browned skin as she flashed an angry look 
upon the speaker. 

Dinny burst into a hearty laugh. 

“ Look at him," he said, “ coloring up like a girl. There, 
don't look at me, boy, as if ye were going to bite. I like to 
see it in a lad. It shows his heart's in the right place, and 
that he's honest and true. There, take a grip o' me hand, 
for I like you as much for your handsome face as for the way 
you've stood thrue to your brother and his mate. And did ye 
come all the way from your own counthry to thry and save 
them?" 

Mary nodded. 

“ Did ye, now? Then ye're a brave lad; and there ar'n't . 


74 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


many men who would have watched night after night in that 
ugly bit o’ wood among the shnakes and reptiles. I wouldn’t 
for the best brother 1 iver had, and there’s foive of ’em, and 
all sisters.” 

Mary smilingly laid her hand in Dinny’s, and gazed in the 
merry, frank face before her. 

“ I’ll trust you,” she said. 

‘‘ And ye sha’n’t repent it, me lad, for you’ve done no 
harm, and were niver a prishner. And now, as we are talking, 
I’d like to know what yer brother and number noinety-sivin 
did to be sint out of the counthry. It wasn’t murther, or 
they’d have hung ’em. Was it — helping yerselves?” 

“My. brother and his old friend Bart Wrigley were trans- 
ported to the plantations for beating and half killing, they 
said, the scoundrel who had insulted and ill-used his sister!” 
cried Mary, with flashing eyes and flaming cheeks, as she stood 
up proudly in the boat, and looked from one to the other. 

“ Wid a shtick?” said Dinny, rubbing his cheek as he peered 
eagerly into Mary’s face. 

“ Yes, with sticks.” 

“ And was that all?” 

“Yes.” 

“ They transported thim two boys to this baste of a place, 
and put chains on their legs, for giving a spalpeen like that a 
big bating wid a shtick?” 

“Yes,” said Mary, smiling in the eager face before her; 
“ that was the reason.” 

“Holy Moses!” ejaculated Dinny. “For just handling a 
shtick like that. Think o’ that, now! Why, I sent Larry 
Higgins to the hospital for sivin weeks wance for just such a 
thing. An’ it was a contimptibly thin shkull he’d got, just 
like a bad egg, and it cracked directly I felt it wid the shtick. 
And what did you do?” he added, sharply, as he turned to 
Mary. “ Where was your shtick?” 

“ I struck him with my hand,” said Mary, proudly. 

“ More sorrow to it that it hadn’t a shtick in it at the time. 
Sint ye both out here for a thing like that! Gintlemen, I’m 
proud of ye. Why didn’t ye tell me before?” 

He held out his hands to both, and, intruder as he was, it 
seemed impossible to resist his frank, friendly way, and the 
escaped prisoners shook hands with him again. 

“ And now what are ye going to do?” said Dinny, eagerly. 

“ don’t know yet,” said Abel, rather distantly. 

“ That’s jist me case,” said Dinny. “ I’m tired of soger- 
ing and walking up and down wid a mushket kaping guard 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


76 


over a lot of poor divils chained like wild bastes. I tuk the 
shilling bekase been in a skrimmage, and the bowld ser- 
geant said tliere^d be plinty of foighting; and the divil a bit 
there’s been but setting us to shoot prisbners, and I didn’t 
want that. Now, ye’ll tak me wid ye, only, I must get rid o’ 
these - soger clothes, and — look here, what are ye going to do 
wid thim chains?” 

“ Get rid of them,” said Abel, when we can find a file.” 

‘‘ I did not think of a file,” said Mary, with a disappointed 
look. 

“ There’s plinty of strange plants out in these parts,” said 
Dinny, laughing, “ but 1 never see one that grew tiles. Only 
there’s more ways of killing a oat than hanging him, as the 
praste said when he minded his owld brogues wid a glue-pot. 
Come here.” 

He took off his flannel jacket, folded it, and laid it in the 
bottom of the boat, but looked up directly. 

“ Ye’ve got a bit o’ sail,” he said, “ and there’s a nice wind. 
Where are you going first?” 

Mary looked at her brother, and Abel glanced at Bart. 

“Ye haven’t made up yer minds,” said Hinny, “ so look 
here. About twenty miles out yander to the west there’s a 
bit of an island where the overseer and two ofiicers wint one 
day to shute wild pig and birds, and I went wid ’em. Why 
not go there till ye make up yer minds? It’s a moighty purty 
place, and ye’re not overlooked by the neighbors’ cabins, for 
there’s nobody lives there at all, at all, and we can have it our 
own way.” 

“ Wild pig there?” said Abel, eagerly. 

“ Bedad, yis, sor; nice swate bacon running about on four 
legs all over the place, and fruit on the trees, and fish in the 
say for the catching. Oh, an’ it’s a moighty purty little es- 
tate!” 

“ And how could we find it?” cried Mary. 

‘‘By jist setting a sail, and kaping about four miles from 
the shore till ye see it lying like a bit o’ cloud off to the south. 
Sure, and we could hang our hammocks there before night, 
and the mushket here all ready to shoot a pig. ” 

“ Yes,” said Mary, in response to a glance from her brother. 

“ Then I’ll hoist the sail,” said Bart. 

“Nay, let the boy do it,” said Hinny, “ and you come and 
sit down here. I’ll soon show you a thing as would make the 
sergeant stare.” 

Hinny drew a large knife from his pocket, and a flint and 
steel. The latter he returned, and, taking the flint, he laid 


^6 


Commodore junk. 


his open knife on the thwart of the boat, and with the flint 
jagged the edged of the blade all along into a rough kind of 
saw. 

“ There he said; “that will do. That iron^s as soft as 
cheese. ” 

This last was a slight Hibernian exaggeration; but as Mary 
hoisted sail, and Abel put out an oar to steer, while the little 
vessel glided swiftly over the sunlit sea, Dinny began to oper- 
ate upon the ring round one of Barths ankles, sawing away 
steadily, and with such good effect that at the end of an hour 
he had cut half through, when, by hammering the ring to- 
gether with the butt of the musket, the half-severed iron gave 
way, and one leg was free. 

“ Look at that, now!’^ said Dinny, triumphantly, and with 
an air of satisfaction that took away the last doubts of his 
companions. “ Now, thin, up wid that other purty foot!^^ 
he cried; and, as the boat glided rapidly toward the west, he 
sawed away again, with intervals of rejagging at the knife 
edge, and soon made a cut in the second ring. 

“ Keep her a little further from the shore, Abel,'’^ said 
Mary, in a warning tone, as the boat sped westward. 

“Ye neediiT mind,^^ said Dinny, Rawing away; “the in- 
habitants all along here are a moighty dacent sort of folk, and 
won’t tell where we’re gone. They’re not handsome, and 
they’ve got into a bad habit o’ wearing little tails wid a moighty 
convanient crook in ’em to take howld of a tree. ” 

“ Monkeys!” said Mary, eagerly. 

“Yes, Masther Jack, monkeys; and then there’s the shmil- 
ing crockidills, and a few shnakes like ships’ masts, and some 
shpotted cats. There’s nobody else lives here for hundreds o’ 
miles.” 

“ Then you are safe, Abel,” said Mary, with the tears 
standing in her eyes. 

“ Yes, Ma — yes. Jack,” cried Abel, checking himself; and 
then meaningly, as he glanced at Bart, “ you’re a brother of 
whom a man may well be proud. ” 

“ Ay,” cried Bart, excitedly, “ a brother of whom a man 
may well be proud.” 

“ Hurroo!” cried Dinny. “ Howld still, my lad, and I’ll 
soon be through.” 

And the boat sped onward toward the west. 

The island was found just as the Irishman had foretold, and 
as everning approached, without having even sighted a sail on 
their way, the little boat began coasting along, its occupants 
eagerly scanning the low, rock-reefed shore, above which 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


77 


waved a luxuriant tropic growth, hut for some time no land- 
ing-place was found, while, though the sea was calm, there 
was a heavy swell to curl up and break upon the various reefs 
in a way that would have swamped their craft had they at- 
tempted to land. 

The last fetter had been laboriously sawed through, Dinny 
having persisted in continuing the task, and he now sat resting 
and watching the shore with a critical eye. 

All at once, upon sailing round a jagged point to which they 
had to give a wide berth on account of the fierce race which 
swept and eddied among the rocks, a pleasantly wooded little 
bay opened out before them with a smooth sandy shore where 
the waves just creamed and glistened in the sun. 

“ Look at that, now,’^ said Dinny. “ That^s where we 
landed; but 1 was ashleep after pulling a long time at the oar, 
and I disremembered all about where we went ashore. 

“ How beautiful said Jack, gazing thoughtfully at the 
glorious scene, and asking herself whether that was to be her 
future home. 

“ An^ d^yer caal that beautiful?’^ said Dinny, contemptu- 
ously. “ Young man, did ye iver see Dublin Bay?’^ 

“ No,’^ said Jack, smiling in the earnest face before him. 

“ Nor the Hill of Howth?’^ 

Jack shook his head. 

“ Then don’t call that beautiful again in me presence,’^ 
said Dinny. 

“ Puts me in mind of Black Pool,” said Bart, thoughtfully. 

Further conversation was checked by the interest of land- 
ing, the boat being run up on the shore and hidden among the 
rocks, not that it was likely that it would be seen, but the 
position of the fugitives and the dread of being retaken made 
them doubly cautious, Bart even going so far as to obliterate 
their foot-prints on the sand. 

Now, then,” said Dinny, you’ve got the mushket and 
the bagnet, and those two make one; but if I was you I’d cut 
down one of them bamboos and shtick the bagnet on that, 
which would make two of it, and it would be a moighty purty 
tool to kill a pig. ” 

The hint was taken, Bart soon cutting down a long, straight 
lance shaft and forcing it into the socket of the bayonet. 

“ Then next,’^ said Dinny, “ if I was captain I should say 
let’s see about something to ate.” 

“ Hear that, Abel.^’^ said Bart. 

“ Yes. I was thinking of how we could get down some 
cocoa-nuts. There are plenty of bananas.” 


78 


COMMODOEE JUl^’K. 


“ Hapes/^ put in Dinny; and there's a cabbage growing 
in the heart of ivery one of thim bundles of leaves on the top 
of a shtick as they call palms; but thim's only vegetables, 
captain, dear, and me shtomach is asking for mate." 

“ Can we easily shoot a pig — ^you say there are some?" said 
Abel. 

“ And is it aisily shoot a pig?” said Dinny. Here, give 
me the mushket." 

He held out his hand for the piece, and Abel, who bore it, 
hesitated for a moment or two, and glanced at Jack, who 
nodded shortly, and the loaded weapon was passed to the Irish- 
man. 

“ Ye doubted me," he said, laughing; ‘‘ but niver mind, 
it's quite nat'ral. Come along; I won't shoot any of je un- 
less I'm very hungry and can't get a pig. " 

He led the way through an opening in the rough cliff, and 
they climbed along a narrow ravine for some few hundred 
yards, the roar of the sea being hushed and the overhanging 
trees which held on among the rifts of the rocks shutting out 
the evening light, so that at times it was quite dusk. But the 
rocky barrier was soon passed, and an open natural park 
spread before them, in a depression of which lay a little lake, 
whose smooth grassy shores were literally plowed in every 
direction with shallow scorings of the soil. 

“ Look at that now," said Dinny in a whisper, as he pointed 
down at some of the more recent turnings of the soft earth. 
“ The purty creatures have all been as busy as Pat Mulcahy's 
pig which nobody could ring. Whisht! lie down, ye divils," 
he whispered, setting the example, and crouching behind a 
piece of rock. 

The others hid at once, and a low grunting and squeaking 
which had suddenly been heard in the distance increased loud- 
ly; and directly after a herd of quite two hundred pigs came 
tearing down through a narrow opening in the rocky jungle 
and made straight for the lake. 

They were of all sizes, from little plump fellows, half the 
weight of ordinary porkers, to their seniors — the largest of 
which was not more than half the dimensions of an English 

Pi^- 

They trotted down to the water-side, where they drank and 
rolled and wallowed at the edge for a few moments, and then 
came hack in happy unconsciousness of the fate which awaited 
one of their number, and passing so near the hidden group 
that Dinny had an easy shot at a well-fed specimen which 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


79 


rolled over, the rest dashing oS through the trees squealing as 
if every one had been injured by the shot. 

“ We shahi^t starve here/^ said Diiiny, with a grin of satis- 
faction, and before many minutes had passed a fire was kindled 
in a sheltered nook, where the . flame was not likely to be seen 
from the sea, and as soon as it was glowing, pieces of the pig, 
cut in a manner which would have disgusted a butcher, were 
frizzling in the embers. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“master jack."'^ 

They had been a month on the island, leading a dreamy 
kind of existence, and had begun to sleep of a night deeply 
and well without starting up half a dozen times bathed in 
sweat, and believing that the authorities from Plantation Set- 
tlement were on their track and about to take them by sur- 
prise. The question had been debated over and over again: 
What were they to do? but Dinny generally had the last word. 

“ Why, who wants to do anything? Unless a man was in 
Oireland, where could he be better than he is here, with every- 
thing a man could wish for but some more powder and a wife. 
Eh! Master Jack, ye handsome young rascal, that's what ye're 
always thinking about." 

Jack gave him an angry look, and colored. 

“ Look at him!" cried Dinny. “ There's tell-tales. Niver 
mind, lad, it's human nature, and we're all full of it, and a 
good thing, too. Now come and get some cocoa-nuts, for the 
powder's growing very low and we shall have to take to pig- 
hunting instead of shooting when it's done." 

Jack hesitated, and then, as if suddenly making up his 
mind, accompanied the Irishman to the nearest grove where 
the cocoa palms grew close down to the sea. 

Here Dinny rolled up the sleeves of his coarse and ragged 
shirt, and climbed one tree as a lad does a pole; but the fruit 
when he reached it was immature> and he threw only one of 
the great husks down. 

“ We don't want dhrink, but mate," said Dinny, selecting 
another tree, and beginning to climb; but the day was hot, 
there was a languid feeling induced by the moist atmosphere, 
and Dinny failed three times to reach the glorious green crown 
of leaves where the nuts nestled, and slid down again, sore in 
body and in temper. 

A failure, Dinny?" said Jack. 

“Failure! yes. Can't ye see it is?" said the Irishman, 


80 


COMMODORE JUl^K. 


sourly, as he bent down and softly rubbed the inner sides of 
his knees. “ Here, l^m not going to do all the climbing. 
You have a turn. ” 

Jack shook his head. 

“ No skulking!^^ cried Dinny; “ fair play^s a jool, me lad, 
so up you go. Ye’re younger and cleverer wid yer arms and 
legs than I am. Why, ye ought to go up that tree like a 
monkey. ” 

Jack shook his head and frowned. 

“ No,” he said, “ I’m no climber. Let’s go back. ” 

“ Without a nut, and ready to be laughed at? Not I, me 
lad. Now, then, I shall have to tak ye in hand and mak a 
man .of ye. Up wid ye.” 

He caught the youth by the arm, and drew him, half resist- 
ing, toward the tree. 

“ No, no. Hinny. Nonsense! I could not climb the tree.” 

‘‘ Bedad, an’ ye’ve got to climb it!” cried Dinny. Njow, 
thin, take howld toightly, and up you go.” 

“ Loose my arm,” said Jack, speaking in a low voice, full 
of suppressed anger. 

“ Divil a bit. Ye’ve got to climb that three.” 

“ Loose my arm, Dinny,” said Jack again. 

“ Ye’ve got to climb that three, I tell ye, boy. Now, thin, 
no skulking. Up wid ye.” . 

Jack hung back, with the color deepening in his cheeks, 
aild a dark look in his eyes, which Dinny could not interpret; 
and, half in anger at the lad’s opposition, half in playful de- 
termination, he grasped the youth firmly, and forced him to- 
ward the tree. 

In an instant Jack flung himself round, with his eyes flash- 
ing, and before the Irishman could realize what was coming he 
went staggering back from the fierce blow he received in his 
chest, caught his heels against the husk of an overgrown nut, 
and came down heavily on the sand. 

Dinny was an Irishman, and he had received a blow. - 

“ Bad luck to ye, ye arbitrary young divil!” he cried, spring- 
ing up. It’s a big belting ye want, is it, to tache ye man- 
ners! thin ye shall have it.” 

Jack trembled with indignation and excitement, but not 
with fear, for his cheeks were scarlet instead of pale. A blow 
had been struck, and he knew that no Irishman would receive 
one without giving it back with interest, and the only way out 
of the difficulty was to run, and he scorned to do that. 

Quick as lightning he snatched a knife from his pocket, 
drew open the blade,, and held it across his chest, half turning 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


81 


from his assailant, but with the point so directed that, if 
Dinny had closed, it could only have been at the expense of 
an ugly wound. 

“ Look at that now!^' cried Dinny, pausing with hands 
raised* to grip his adversary; “ and* me widout a bit o^ shtick 
in me fist. Ye"d shting, would ye, ye little varmint! Put 
down yer knoife and figh^t like a man. Bah!'^ he cried, con- 
temptuously, as his anger evaporated as rapidly as it had 
flashed up, “ ye Ye only a boy, and itY no dishgrace to have 
been hit by one o^ yer size. . I could nearly blow ye away. 
There, put away yer knoife and shake hands. 

A hail from the cluster of trees which they made their 
camp, and Bart and Abel came into sight. 

Jack closed his knife with a sigh of relief, and dropped it 
into his pocket. 

“ An^ ye wonY shake hands?^' said Dinny, reproachfully. 

“ Yes, I will, Dinny, cried Jack, warmly, holding out his 
hand; and Pm sorry I struck you.'’^ 

“ ThatY handsome, me lad, cried the Irishman, gripping 
it tightly. “I’m not sorry, for it don’t hurt now, and I’m 
glad ye’ve got so much fight in ye. Ye’re a brave lad, and 
there’s Oirish blood in ye somewhere, though ye’re ignorant of 
the fact. Halloo, captain! what ye’re going to do?” 

Abel strode up with Bart at his side, looking curiously from 
one to the other. 

“ I want to have a talk with you two,” said Abel, throwing 
himself on the sand. “ Sit down. ” 

“ Did he see?” said Jack to himself, as he took his place a 
little on one side. 

“ A talk, and widout a bit o’ tobacky!” said Dinny, with a 
sigh. “ What is it, captain, dear?” 

“ Bart and I have been thinking over our position here,” 
said Abel, “ and we have determined to go.” 

“To go!” said Dinny. “Why, where would ye foind a 
betther place?” 

“ That has to be seen, ’’said Abel; “ but we can’t stay here, 
and we want to know where is the nearest port to which we 
could sail, and then get ship for home. ” 

“ Get ship for the prison, ye mane!” cried Dinny, indig- 
nantly. “ They’d send the lot of us back, and in less than a 
month you and Bart there would be hoeing among the bushes, 
young Jack here would be thried and punished for helping 
ye to escape, and as for me — well,” he added, with a com- 
ical grin, “ I don’t know what they’d do with me, but I’m 
sure they wouldn’t give me my promotion. ” 


82 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


But we shall starve if we stay here/^ said Abel, sternly. 

“ And is it shtarve wid you two such fishermen? Get out 
wid ye! Let^s build a hut before the rainy time comes, and 
settle down. Kerens as foine an estate as a gentleman need 
wish to have; and some day wan of us ^11 go for a holiday to 
Oireland or Shcotland, and persuade four illigant ladies to 
come wid us and be married; and what more could a boy wish 
for then, eh, Masther Jack? What do you say, Bart?^' 

“ That we must go,^^ said Bart, gruffly. 

“ Let's think it over first,'^ said Linny. ‘‘ At all events ye 
can't go for mouths to come; for ye'd be taken for eshcaped 
prisoners at waust; so, as we've got no vittles, let's tak the 
boat and go out and catch some fish." 

Abel frowned, and seemed disposed to continue the discus- 
sion; but every one else was silent, and he rose slowly, ready 
enough, from old associations, to obey a command. So the 
little party walked slowly down toward where the boat lay hid- 
den, ready to row it out to the edge of one of the weed-hung 
reefs, where fish were plentiful; and in spite of the roughness 
of their hooks and lines a pretty good dish could always be 
secured. 

They had reached the end of the ravine, where the trees and 
bushes grew thickly, and Jack, who was first, was in the act of 
passing out on to the sands of the little bay, when a great 
hand seized him by the shoulder, and he was dragged back. 

His hand went to his pocket again in the instinct of self-de- 
fense, for it seemed to be a repetition of Dinny's attack; but, 
turning sharply, he found that it was Bart who had dragged 
him back among the trees, and stood pointing seaward, where 
the solution of their difficulty appeared in, as it were, a warn- 
ing to escape; for at about half a mile from the shore a white- 
winged cutter was coming rapidly toward the little bay; and 
as she careened over they could see that she was occupied by 
at least a dozen men. 

“ Quick, the boat!" cried Abel, excitedly. 

“Are ye mad!" cried Dinny. “They could see ns, and 
would be here before we could get round the point." 

“ Eight," growled Bart. 

“ It's the cutter from the settlement," said Dinny, watch- 
ing the coming vessel. “ She sails like the wind, and, bedad, 
it's wind they've got of where we are, and they've come to 
fetch us. 'Now, thin, boys, the divil a bit will 1 go back, so 
who's for a foight?" 

The sight of the cutter seemed to chase away all discontent 
with their position, bringing up, as it did, the recollection on 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


83 


the part of one of months of longing to give freedom to 
brother and friend; on the part of the other three, of long 
periods of toilsome labor in chains, and of wearisome keeping 
guard over the wretched convicts, sickening in the tropic sun. 
The island suddenly assumed the aspect of a paradise, from 
which they were to be banished forever; and stealing silently 
back to their little camp, the fugitives hastily did what they 
could to destroy traces of their presence, and then turned to 
Abel to ask what next. 

“ The woods, he said. “We must hide while we can, and 
when they hunt us to bay we must fight for it.*^ 

“ No,"’ said Jack, quietly. “ They will think we are in the 
woods, as being the most likely place for us to hide. We 
should be safer among the rocks in the cliff-side, and should 
be able to watch the cutter as well.” 

“ It’s a born gin’ral ye are,” said Dinny, enthusiastically. 

“ Right, Abel, lad; Jack’s right,” growled Bart; and Abel 
acceded with a nod of his head. 

“ You are lightest,” he said. “ Go first. Jack. Steal down 
by the side of the cliff, and get a good way round.” 

“No,” said Jack, “there is neither time nor need. We 
must stay where we are, and wait and see which way they go. 
It will be time then to retreat. ” 

“ Hark at him! Sure, and if I wasn’t certain that there’s 
Oirish blood in his veins, I’d say his grandfather was the Juke 
o’ Marlbrook.” 

“ Right,” growled Bart; and they drew back among the 
rocks and waited, lying down so as to be well hidden. Jack 
climbing a little way up the slope above them, and getting into 
a position which commanded the ravine leading down to the 
bay. 

They had not long to wait before voices were heard coming 
up from the shore, and soon after the overseer made his ap- 
pearance, in company with a young officer, both carrying 
pieces over their shoulders, and followed by half a dozen sol- 
diers ill their flannel undress. 

They were chatting and smoking, and quite off their guard, 
taking matters so leisurely that the watcher felt doubtful as to 
their intentions, and lay trying to catch the bent of their con- 
versation, as they went on toward the interior ol the little 
island, their voices dying out in the distance, before he at- 
tempted to stir. 

When he drew himself slowly back and crept through the 
bushes till he rejoined his companions, every mouth parted to 
ask for news; and anxiety, mingled' with the stern determina- 


84 


COMMODORE JruKK* 


tion painted in their faces, told of the stubborn resistance that 
their pursuers might expect before they had achieved their 
ends. 

“ They have gone right on into the woody part.^^ 

“ Yes, the giiiYaTs right,^^ said Dinny. 

“ But I have my doubts of their intentions, said Jack. 

“ And so have 1 — big doubts, said Dinny; “ so I wonT 
thrust them.^^ 

“ I don’t think they’ve come in search of you,” continued 
Jack. 

“ Not come in search of us?” said Abel, excitedly. 

A shot rang out from the distance, followed immediately by 
another. 

“ That proves it,” said Jack. It is a shooting party.” 

“ Av coorse it is,” cried Dinny, laughing. “I could have 
told ye that, only I didn’t think of it. It’s the pigs they’re 
after, and they’re making free wid our flocks and herds.” 

‘‘What a relief!” said Abel, wiping the sweat from his 
brow. “ What shall we do next?” 

” Keep in hiding; but I’ll climb up till I can see their cut- 
ter. It may be near our boat. ” 

“ A born gin’ral,” said Dinny, giving his head a roll and 
gazing approvingly at Jack. “ There’ll be two or three left 
in charge of their boat, and — what would you do next?” 

Jack held up his hand, and softly retraced his course up the 
steep slope; and they could trace him from time to time by 
the waving of the leaves, but he went so cautiously that he was 
not seen once; and while they kept their eyes fixed upon one 
spot the bushes and leaves were seen to rustle softly some dis- 
tance higher up. 

Then they' saw no more, but lay listening to the distant 
shouts and firing which reached their ears again and again, till, 
to the surprise of all three. Jack suddenly came upon them 
from behind. 

“ Well?” said Abel, eagerly. 

Jack could not speak for a few moments, being breathless 
with exertion. 

‘ ‘ Three men left with the cutter and they are ashore, lying 
upon the sands. Abel,” said Jack, after a long, thoughtful 
silence, “ we shall never be safe here with these people com- 
ing from time to time.” 

“No; that settles our plans. We must take the boat and 
go.” 

“ Why not take our enemy’s vessel? We could sail where 
we liked then.” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


85 


“ Didn^t 1 say he was a born gin’ral?^’ cried Diuny, enthu- 
siastically. 

“ Take their boat!^^ said Abel. 

“ They’re three men, and we’re three,” said Bart, in a low 
growl. 

“Four!” cried Dinny, excitedly. “Ye never see how 
Masther Jack can foight. ” ' 

“Hush!” said the latter, sternly. “The men are lying 
about half asleep. If we waited, we might get on board, cut 
the anchor rope, and drift out with the tide perhaps without 
rousing them. ” 

“ And if it came to the worst we could fight,” said Abel. 

“ Are ye ready?” whispered Dinny. “ See that your piece 
is well primed. Mv shtick’s loaded, and I’m ready to fire it 
off.” 

“ Hush!” said Jack, sternly. “ I will climb up to where I 
can watch the men, and if they go to sleep I will wave a 
branch. Then creep up to me, and we may succeed without 
trouble.” 

The proposal was agreed to at once, and a long, tedious time 
of waiting ensued, at the end of which Bart bared his arm. 

“ We’re strong enough for ’em,” he whispered. “ Let’s go 
at once and fight it out.” 

At that moment, high above their heads, a branch was seen 
waving, just as a shot rang out at no great distance, shouts 
were heard, and the grunting of a herd of wild pigs rose from 
the wooded part of their left. 

“Too late!” whispered Abel. 

“Eight!” growled Bart. 

“ Then we’ll foight for it,” whispered Dinny. “ Bedad, I 
believe they’ll run as soon as they find us here, and small 
blame to ’em.” 


CHAPTEE XV. 

ANOTHER ESCAPE. 

The excitement seemed to bring Jack more and more to the 
front, and those who followed read in his actions why it was 
that he had been successful in freeing them from their pursuers 
at the time of the escape. 

For, active as a goat, he crept from rock to rock, lowering 
himself down here, dropping there, and having from time to 
time to wait to give the rest an opportunity for keeping up. 
And all the while the parts of the cliff side that were the most 


86 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


wooded, and. which offered, the best shelter, were selected, and 
discovery by the sleeping men avoided. 

It was an arduous task; but the guide was equal to the 
emergency, and continuously and silently proceeding succeed- 
ed at length in dropping down to the sandy shore about fifty 
yards from where the men lay apparently asleep and sheltered 
by a huge mass of weed-grown stone, while the cutter swung 
by its anchor a hundred yards further on beyond the sailors, 
and she rose and fell easily as the slight tide ran softly down. 

Jack grasped the situation clearly, and felt how little time 
there was to lose. At any moment the heads of the hunting 
party might appear as they came down the ravine to the bay, 
while, supposing these to be really asleep, the first shout 
would bring them to their feet, and then all chance of escape 
would be gone. 

The men had laid down close up under the cliff so as to be 
sheltered from the sun and from an instinctive desire to be be- 
yond the reach of any venturesome wave, so that to reach the 
cutter the fugitives would have to pass her guardians between 
them and the sea. 

Thi^ brought the escaping party nearer to the cutter, but 
placed €hem full in the view of those who might be coming 
down the ravine at the head of the bay, and also shut them off 
from shelter and concealment should an emergency arise. 

Jack had played so prominent a part hitherto that the eyes 
of all were directed to him for further instructions, and for a 
moment he hesitated and pointed to Abel. 

“ No,^^ whispered the latter, you have done so well; go 
on.’’ 

J ack hesitated for a moment or two more, and then said in 
a low voice: 

‘‘All follow quickly and go to the far side of the bay, seize 
the boat, and we are safe.” 

“ But there is no boat,” said Bart. 

Jack pointed to a mass of rock, some 6fty yards away, where 
a few inches of the stern of a boat were visible, but which had 
not been seen by the others. 

“ Lead on,” said Abel, abruptly; “ and if the men wake up 
Bart and I will tackle them while you and Dinny here get into 
the boat and row out. WeTl swim to you, and you can take 
us in.” 

“ And d’ye think I’m going to run away like that?” whis- 
pered Dinny. “ I’ll shtay.” 

“Dinny!” whispered Jack, fiercely. 


COMMODORE JUITK. 


87 


All, well, I forgot I was a soldier, my lad. 1^11 obey 
orders. 

"Wherreupon Abel examined the priming of his musket, and 
Bart tried the bayonet at the end of the bamboo shaft to see if 
it was firm, while Dinny whispered: 

“ Howld her tight to yer shoulther, lad, when'ye fire, for 
she’s a divil to kick.” 

Jack gave a glance round once more, and then, holding up 
a hand to command silence, he listened, but all was still save 
the lapping of the waves as the tide retired and then returned. 

His next proceeding was to steal out to where he could get a 
good look at the three sailors left in charge. 

One lay on his breast, with his arms folded and his brow 
resting upon them. The second lay upon his back, with his 
hands beneath him, and his cap tilted over his eyes. The third 
was upon his side with his back to them, and all apparently 
fast asleep, for neither stirred. 

Jack would have gladly waited till dark; but to have done 
this might have meant losing their means of escape, for they 
were not certain that the party would stay all night. 

So, feeling this, and that their only chance lay in a bold at- 
tempt, he glanced back once, and after seeing that his com- 
panions were quite ready to follow, he stepped out quietly on 
to the yielding sand and made for the spot where the small 
boat lay. 

To reach this boat the party had to pass within some fifty 
feet or so of the sleepers, and the crucial moments would be 
when they had passed within ken of the man lying upoti his 
side with his back to them. Even if the others were awake it 
would be possible to pass them unseen; but it was otherwise 
with the third man, whose position would enable him to see 
whoever crossed the sands of the little bay, while, for aught 
they knew, he might be a faithful guardian, keeping strict 
watch over both boat and cutter while his companions slept. 

Jack walked softly on, the sand deadening his tread, so that 
he was soon abreast of the guardians of the boat, and another 
five minutes would suffice for him and his party to reach the 
boat and push her off; when, armed as they were, they could 
laugh at pursuit. 

Another few yards and no one stirred. Jack gazed over his 
left shoulder at the dangerous reclining figure, but its position 
remained unchanged. 

Another few yards, and still there was no sign, nor likely to 
be, for there could be no doubt of the fact — the man was fast' 


88 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


asleep, and the agitation and anxiety of the fugitives was ap- 
parently wasted. 

Jack glanced back to see that his companions were following 
in Indian file, walking upon the tips of their feet, and casting 
glances from time to time at the spot from which danger 
would arise. 

Another dozen yards and the leader of the little party felt 
safe, when a sharp report came from the ravine above, the shot 
echoing and reverberating along the sides of the cliffs till it 
sounded like a peal of thunder, which drowned the shout that 
followed — a shout meant as a warning to the guardians of the 
boat that their party was close at hand. 

The man lying upon his side sprung to his feet, and the 
other two woke up, to stare stupidly about them before they 
realized the state of affairs, and that their companion had 
seized his musket from where it lay with those of his fellows 
against the foot of the cliff which towered above their heads; 
for in accordance with their plans. Jack and Dinny had run on 
and seized the boat, while Abel and Bart had faced round with 
their weapons ready, retreating slowly toward the sea. 

For a few moments no word was spoken, and then it was 
the first of the three sailors who realized their position. 

“ It^s a cat or a bullet in us, mates,^^ he cried, desperately. 
“ I says bullet; so come on.'’^ 

The other two were Englishmen like himself, and evidently 
entertained their comrade^s preference for a chance bullet or a 
stab to being tried by court-martial and sentenced to a hog- 
ging, so they also snatched up their muskets and belts, hastily 
threw the latter over their shoulders, and, taught by training, 
brought their pieces to bear, shouting to the prisoners to sur- 
render. 

‘‘ Give up, you lubbers cried the first sailor. “It’s of 
no good. ” 

For answer Abel glanced over his shoulder, and seeing that 
Jack and Dinny had reached the boat, slowly continued the 
retreat. 

“ Will you surrender?” roared the sailor, as another shout 
came from the ravine. 

“ Surrender yourselves,” cried Bart, fiercely. “ Lay down 
them guns.” 

“ Surrender, or we fire,” said the sailor again, as the two 
men slowly backed toward the boat, watchful of a rush being 
made. 

Bart uttered a low, defiant growl, and the bamboo he held 
quivered in his knotted hands. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


S9 


“All together, then, mates, shouted the sailor — fire 

Jack uttered a groan as he stood knee-deep in water, run- 
ning the boat as near as it could be got to his friends, and a 
mist swam before his eyes. 

Glide — dich — dich / — and as many tiny showers of sparks 
were struck in the pans of the pieces. 

“Why, you stupid lubbers, you didn’t load!” roared the 
sailor. “ Now, then, ground arms — load!” 

A shout of derision arose from Abel and Bart, and the 
former took up the tone of menace now. 

“ Throw down your muskets, or I fire!” he cried. 

“ P’r’aps you’re not loaded neither, mate,” cried the sailor, 
laughing. “ Now, lads. Bagnets: charge.” 

His companions hesitated for a moment, and then, lowering 
their pieces, they made a rush for those who barred their way 
to the boat. 

Bang ! 

One sharp report. The right-hand sailor spun round, 
dropped his musket, stooped down and seized his leg beneath 
the knee, and dropped into a sitting position upon the sand. 

“ Hurt, mate?” cried the first sailor, halting. 

“ Leg,” was the laconic reply. 

“ Never mind,” cried the first sailor. “ Come on, mate.” 

He lowered his piece again, and the two rushed upon Bart 
and Abel, as brave as lions now in the excitement. 

These two had taken advantage of the man being wounded 
to back rapidly toward the boat, lying in the shallow water; 
but the sand was heavy, and they had to face the enemy all 
the time. For the latter came at them with stubborn deter- 
mination, reached them while they were a good twenty yards 
from the water, and a fierce fight ensued. 

It was as brief as it was hot and determined, for, after a 
few moments’ fencing, the second sailor delivered a deadly 
thrust at Abel; while the principal man, a sturdy, tall fellow, 
crossed weapons with Bart, whose slight bamboo lance was a 
feeble defense against the bayonet at the end of the musket. 
Moreover, the fugitives were fighting with the disadvantage of 
being seen now by the well-armed party returning from the 
hunt. These had received warning that something was wrong 
by hearing the shots, and were now running rapidly down to- 
ward the sandy shore. 

“ Now,” said the second sailor, presenting his piece, which 
was opposed to one minus the bayonet-blade — “ now I have 
you. Surrender!” 

For answer Abel stepped back, clubbed his weapon, swung 


90 


COMMODORE JUKa. 


it round, and brought it down with such violence that the butt 
struck the other musket full upon the stock and dashed it 
from its holder^s hand. 

Before Abel could get another blow round, the man had 
dashed in, closed with him, and, to Jack^s agony, capture 
seemed certain. 

Meantime the first sailor had made several fierce passes at 
Bart, who was scratched once upon the wrist, and had drawn 
blood on the other side, when his bamboo shaft broke, and he 
seemed at the mercy of his antagonist. 

Heavy as he was, Bart was activity itself, and reversing the 
encounter going on between the other two, he avoided a thrust 
by striking the bayonet aside with his arm, and closed with his 
adversary. 

The two locked together in a desperate struggle directly, for 
the sailor abandoned his musket as soon as Bart was at close 
quarters, and gripped him round the waist. 

“ Pll have you, anyhow,^^ he panted, as he lifted Bart from 
the ground. 

“ Let go, or I’ll crush in your ribs,” growled Bart, sav- 
agely. 

“ Do it, mate,” retorted the sailor, swinging Bart round, 
and trying to throw him; but he might as well have tried to 
throw oft* his arms. Then by a desperate wrench Bart loosened 
the other’s grip, so that he could touch ground once more, 
and the struggle went on like some desperate bout in wrestling. 

These encounters were matters of a minute or so; but to 
Jack and Dinny, standing knee-deep in the water holding the 
boat ready for the escape, and the oars where they could be 
seized in an instant, the minute seemed an hour. They would 
have gone to the help of their comrades, but it seemed to them 
tliat they would be cutting oft‘ the means of escape; and in 
addition, the various phases of the fight succeeded each other 
so rapidly that there was hardly time to think. 

Give me that shtick,” cried Dinny at last; and he snatched 
one from where it lay upon the thwarts of the boat, just as 
Abel sent his adversary down half stunned and turned to help 
Bart. 

“Quick, lad! Hold still a moment!” cried Abel, as the 
overseer came running down from the head of the bay, in com- 
pany with the officer and half a dozen men. 

The words were wasted, for Bart and the first sailor were 
writhing and twisting on the sands like two wild beasts. Bart 
strove hard to shake himself free; but the effort was in vain. 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


91 


for the sailor had fastened on him like a bull-dog, and held on 
with a tenacity that could not be mastered. 

“ It^s of no use,^'’ panted Bart, as Dinriy ran up. For the 
enemy were not two hundred yards away, and running fast. 
“ Escape, my lads! Never mind me!^^ 

“ Let me get one hit at him,^^ cried Dinny. 

‘'Ah, would you, Paddy!’' roared the sailor, wresting Bart 
round as a shield. “ I know you.” 

“ Now, you!” cried Dinny to Abel. 

But it was like striving to hit a twisting serpent upon the 
head; and strive how they would, Bart’s friends could do 
nothing till the pair had. struggled together to the very edge 
of the water, and then went splashing in. 

“ Get his head down, Bart, and . he’ll soon let go. ” 

Easier said than done. The sailor had his arms well about 
his adversary, and Bart’s effort was vain. 

“Surrender there!” shouted the overseer. “Give up, or 
we’ll fire!” 

“ Let go, or I’ll smash you,” growled Bart, as he caught 
sight of the enemy coming on. 

For answer the sailor clmig the more tightly; and as Bart 
rose to his knees after a fall, the water was now well up to 
their middles. 

“ Here, boat. Jack, lad!” cried Dinny. “ Now, captain 
lay ho wit!” 

Abel grasped his meaning, and seized one side of the human 
knot, composed of two bodies and the customary complement 
of arms and legs, while Dinny caught the other, and together 
they trailed it through the shallow water to meet the boat. 

“ Now, Masther Jack,” cried Dinny, “ take a ho wit!” 

Jack seized Bart by the waist as the boat’s gunwale touched 
him, Abel and L^nny lifted together, and the result was that 
a certain amount of water went in over the side; but with it, 
heaving and struggling still, the knotted-together bodies of 
Bart and his adversary, to lie in the bottom of the little craft, 
the sailor, fortunately for the escaping party, undermost. 

“ Sit down and row!” roared Abel; but his order was need- 
less, for Jack had seated himself on the thwart, thrust out the 
oars at once, and began to pull;, while, on opposite sides, 
Dinny and Abel ran the boat out till they were breast-high in 
the water, when they gave it a final thrust and began to 
climb in. 

By this time they were thirty or forty yards from the dry 
sand, down which the overseer and his party came running, 
and stopped at the edge. 


92 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


‘‘Halt! Surrender!’^ roared the overseer, savagely. 

There was no reply; but the oars were plied swiftly, and the 
boat glided over the glassy swell. 

“ Fire!^^ roared the overseer, raising his piece; and a shower 
of buckshot came whistling and pattering by them, several of 
the little bullets striking the boat. 

“Fire!^"’ roared the overseer again. “Curse you! ^why 
donT you fire?’ ^ 

A scattered volley from half a dozen pieces answered his 
furious order; and as the little party glanced back, it was to 
see that those on shore were reloading rapidly, the peculiar 
noise made by the ramming-down of the wads being plainly 
heard, mingled with the thudding of the ramrods as the 
charges were driven home. 

No one spoke in the boat; but Abel and Dinny rapidly got 
oars over the side and began to pull, the latter having the 
harder work from the heaving bodies of the two combatants 
occupying the bottom of the boat, a fact which necessitated 
his standing up; biit all the same he helped the boat vigorous- 
ly along.^ 

“ Are ye going to lie down?” said Dinny, as he saw the 
enemy wade out as far as they could and prepare to fire. 

“ No!” said Abel, fiercely. “ You can.” 

“ Divil a bit will I, if you don’t,” said Dinny; “ and good 
luck to ’em! They’ve only got big pellets for shooting the 
pigs, and they won’t kill except at close quarthers.” 

Another scattered volley rang echoing out and thundered 
along the cliffs, the smoke hiding the enemy from the gaze of 
those in the boat. 

“ Murther!” yelled Dinny, dropping his oar, but stooping 
to pick it up again as he shook his hand. “ It’s gone right 
through,” he continued, as he gazed at a beaol of blood oozing 
from the back of his hand, and another on the other side in 
the center of his palm. “ 1 wish I knew the divil who fired 
that. It feels like one of the overseer’s games. ” 

“ Any one else hit?” said Abel. “ Jack!” 

“ It’s nothing — a scratch,” said Jack, rowing away with all 
his might, as the blood began to trickle down from a scored 
place upon his forehead. “ Go on rowing.” 

“ Bad luck to ’em! There’s so many shot in a charge; it 
gives ’em such a chance,” grumbled Dinny. “But niver 
mind, Masther Jack. It’ll be a bit of a shmart; but losing a 
dhrop o’ blood won’t hurt ye.” 

Jack nodded, and tugged away rapidly, reducing the dis- 
tance between them and the cutter; but they could not get 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


93 


further from the firing party, who kept up a furious fusillade 
as they followed along round the side of the little bay, the pel- 
lets whistling by the fugitives, and more than one finding a 
home. 

“ Faix, and yeVe got the best place there, Bart, me lad,'' 
cried Dinny, merrily. “ Shall I come and howld him while 
you take a change?" 

“ Look here!" growled Bart, as another volley was fired at 
them, and the shot came hurtling round; it's no good now. 
Are you going to give in?" 

The sailor looked from one to the other as he lay, with his 
head in the water at the bottom of the boat. 

“ Well, this here ar'n't cheerful," he said. 

‘‘ You're beat. Why don't you give in?" 

“ Is it weazand slitting?" he said. “Snickersnee?" 

“ Get out!" cried Dinny. “ Did they cut mine?" 

“ Yours, you deserter!" said the sailor, contemptuously. 

“ As much a desarter as you are, Dick Dullock. Sure, and 
they tuck me prisoner, wid a mushket to me ear and a bagnet 
to my chist." 

“You look like one," said the sailor, sourly. 

“Will you surrender?" growled Bart. 

“ Yes. Can't do no more, can 1? Only bear witness, all 
on you, as I did my duty. Didn't I, youngster?" 

“ You fought like a brave man," said Jack, gravely; “ but 
it is Of no use to struggle now, so give up. " 

“ Ay, I'll give in," said the sailor; “ but I'm a-going to lie 
here till the firing's done. I'll stand fire when there's fighting 
o' both sides;^but I'm a prisoner now, and out of it, so here I 
stays." 

Bart rose from where he had been kneeling on the man's 
chest, and straightened himself slowly, but only to start as a 
fresh volley was fired and a pellet grazed his chin; but he only 
uttered a savage growl like an angry beast, and made way for 
Dinny to sit down and row with all his strength. 

Suddenly a shout from the bay shore took the attention of 
those in the boat, and the firing ceased. 

“ What's that mean?" cried Abel. 

“ They've found our boat," said Jack, excitedly. 

It was true enough; and the fugitives redoubled their efforts 
to reach the cutter, while the overseer continued the firing, so 
as to disable some of the party before they could attain the 
shelter the vessel wbuld give. 

Abel was hit twice, and Bart received another shot, but the 
distance was great now, aud the pellets too small to do serious 


94 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


miscliief; but as they rowed round behind the cutter, anx- 
iously watching to see that no one was aboard, its hull shelter- 
ing them from the firing, the noise and the buzz of voices 
ashore drew their attention to the fact that the overseer, the 
officer, and four more had entered the boat, which started 
with a cheer from those left behind, and pulled rapidly in pur- 
suit. 

‘‘ Quick, Bart, run up the jib while 1 cut the rope.'^ 

‘‘ Nay, haul up to it, you and Dinny,^^ cried Bart, as he ran 
forward. “ It^s only a grapnel. 

The firing recommenced now so viciously that every act on 
board the cutter was performed with great risk, the overseer 
and the officer taking it in turns to send a hail of buckshot at 
every one who showed a head above the low side of the vessel. 

But in spite of ttiis the party worked well, and the sailor 
having surrendered, contented himself, as soon as he was 
aboard, by lying down upon the deck, and beginning to chew. 

The grapnel was hauled in, the jib hoisted, and Jack sta- 
tioned at the tiller; but the sail slowly flapped to and fro, re- 
fusing to fill, and the only way on the cutter was that given 
by the falling tide. 

“ She’ll be aboard of us, Bart, long before we get out of the 
bay,^’ said Abel, with a groan of despair. 

“ Niver say die,’’ cried Dinny, who had just given a turn to 
the painter which held the cutter’s boat. 

“Are there any arms aboard?” growled Bart. “Cuss it! 
look there!” 

Tills last was consequent upon a shot plowing a little chan- 
nel along his neck. “ D’yer hear what I say — you?” he said 
again to their prisoner. “ Are there any arms abroad?” 

“ Yes, in the cabin — muskets,” said the sailor; “ but you 
leave ’em alone, my lad. This here as you’ve done’s piracy, 
and if you kill anybody it’s murder.” 

“ Then let ’em keep otf,” said Bart, with a fierce growl as 
he followed Abel into the cabin, both reappearing again direct- 
ly with muskets and ammunition. 

“ I tell you it’s piracy,” said the sailor from where he lay. 
“ Isn’t it, Dennis Kelly?” 

“ Faix, I s’pose it is,” said Dinny, smiling. “ There’s no 
much in a name.” 

“ Here you, Dinny, get up a musket,” cried Abel. “You 
can shoot.” 

“ Don’t you, Dinny!” said the sailor. “ It’s hanging busi- 
ness. ’ ’ 

“ But I’m a prishner,” said Dinny, grinning, “ and obliged. ” 


COMMODOKE JU^TK* 95 

“ It'll be a hanging matter, Diuny," cried the sailor, as the 
Irishman reappeared with a musket in his hand. 

“It'll be a flogging sure if Fm took," said Dinny, “for 
they'll niver belave I'm acting against my will. Now, Captain 
Abel," he continued, as he loaded his piece, and laid it so that 
he could command the boat, “ whin you ordher me to fire, 
why, av coorse I shall, but you must take the credit of the 
shot." 

“ Keep off!" roared Abel, as the boat now neared them 
fast. “ lou'll get bullets instead of buckshot if you come 
nearer." 

“ Surrender, you piratical scoundrel!" roared the overseer. 
“ Put down that musket. Row hard, my lads!" 

Whatever may have been the overseer's weakness, want of 
courage was not one; and this he proved by discharging his 
piece, and standing up in the boat to watqh the effect. 

The distance was short, but there was a faint puff of air 
which now filled the sail, and there was a feeling of intense 
relief as the cutter rapidly left the coming boat behind. 

Jack's cheeks flushed, and his eyes sparkled as, with a touch 
of the tiller, he seemed to send the cutter rushing through the 
water, while an angry yell rose from behind as the boat 
dropped back. 

But their despondency in the boat was only of a minute's 
duration, for the wind dropped as suddenly as it had risen, the 
cutter ceased to glide onward with the water rattling and 
splashing beneath her bows, the jib shivered and hung motion- 
less, and a cheer arose from the pursuers as the firing recom- 
menced. 

“ Be ready, Bart," said Abel, with a lurid look in his eyes, 
as he once more leveled his piece. “ You, Dinny, are you 
going to help?" 

“No," said the sailor. “It's piracy and murder if you 
shoot them, Dinny Kelly, and it'« fair play if they shoot you." 

“ Yes, it is awkward," said Dinny; “ but Oi'm thinking I 
don't want to go back and be on senthry again, and — there, 
Oi'll make a compromise of it. I won't shoot, but I'll make 
believe, and f reckon 'em. " 

As he spoke he lay down on the deck and took aim at the 
occupants of the coming boat, whose position was extremely 
perilous, while the sides of the cutter sheltered those on board. 

“ Keep back!" roared Abel, as the boat neared them fast. 
“ We're loaded with balJ, not shot." 

There was a momentary indecision on the part of the over- 
seer, and it was instantly communicated to the men, for they 


96 


COMMODOKE 


ceased to paddle, while the two principals bent forward and 
spoke earnestly. 

“ No, they will not dare,^^ said the overseer, loudly. “ Go 
on, my lads! Surrender, you dogs,' or you shall all be hung.-’^ 

The boat was urged through the water again, and the over- 
seer raised his fowling-piece, took aim, and was about to fire, 
when the ofiicer with him laid his hand upon his arm. 

‘‘ Wait,’^ he said. “ Then both fire together, close in, and 
board. 

WeTl do that afterward, cried the overseer, discharging 
his piece and rapidly reloading as the boat glided x)n till it was 
only about twenty yards away, and, in spite of a fierce threat 
or two, the repugnance to shed blood and the natural desire 
not to fight against the law had kept Abel and Bart from re- 
turning the fire. 

Their case seemed hopeless now, unless in the struggle to 
come they repelled the boarders, for the wind which dotted 
the sea a hundred yards away with ripples refused to kiss their 
sail, and in another minute the overseer and his party would 
have been alongside, when, just as he covered Jack^s arm, 
which could be seen lying upon the tiller, and when a shot at 
such short range would have been almost as bad as one from a 
bullet, there was a puff of smoke, a sharp report, and the 
overseer started up in the boat, dropped his fowling-piece, 
which fell into the sea with a splash, and then, before the offi- 
cer could save him, he pitched head foremost over the side. 

“ Look at that now,^'’ said Dinny, who had risen into a sit- 
ting position on the deck, with his musket across his lap. 

“ Yes; youVe done it now, Dinny Kelly,^^ said the sailor, 
gruffly. ^‘Deserted from the station, and shot the superin- 
tendent.^^ 

“ Sorra a bit,^^ said Dinny, as the wind suddenly struck the 
cutter, which heeled over and began to forge rapidly through 
the water. ‘‘Sorra a bit, man. It was this awkward baste 
of a mushket. I just closed my finger for a moment on the 
thrigger, and whoo! off she went, kicking up her heels like a 
nigger^s mule. D^yer think the overseer^s hurt?^^ 

“ I think you\e killed him.'’^ 

“ Not I, bedad. It was me mushket,^^ said Dinny. “ Divil 
a bit will I have any more to do wid it. ITl have another with 
a thrigger which isnT wake. 

“ You've saved us, Dinny," said Jack, excitedly, as the boat 
was being left far behind. 

“ Not I, my lad. Shure, it's between the wind and this 
worn-out old mushket. It's a baste of a thing. Why, it 


COMMODOHE JUKK. 97 

moight have killed the poor man. I say, lad: d^yer think he^s 
much hurt?^^ 

“ A broken arm, that^s all, Dinny,^^ said Jack, smiling. 

“Ah, well!^" said Dinny, reloading the piece; “that'll do 
him good, and give the poor divils at the plantation a bit of a 
rest. " 

He paused in the act of reloading, drew the charge with a 
dry look upon his countenance, and laid the musket down 
upon the deck. 

“Ho, thank ye," he said, shaking his head at the piece. 
“ It's a murdhering haste ye are, and ye'll be getting some 
poor fellow into throuble wan of these days. Don't you think 
so, Dick?" 

The prisoner screwed up his countenance, and then relaxed 
it as he looked hard at Dinny. 

“ Well, it's pretty nigh a hanging matter for you, Dinny," 
he said. 

“ 'What! for an accident, man?" 

“ Accident! you've gone and committed a rank act of piracy! 
But, 1 say, what'll they do with, me?" 

“ Hang ye, I should say," replied Dinny, with a droll look 
in his eye. “ Hang ye as soon as they've got toime to think 
about ye; or no: may be they'll save themselves the throuble, 
and hand ye over to thim ruffians there." 

He pointed over the side, and the sailor gave a start and 
changed color as he caught sight of the back fins of a couple 
of huge sharks gliding along through the water a little way 
astern. 

“ Oh, they're a bad lot with their prishners, Dick. Look 
at me." 

“ But what are they going to do?" said the sailor, eagerly. 
“ They can't put in anywhere, and soon as this day's work's 
known, they'll have a man-o'-war sent after 'em. " ^ 

“ Sorra a wan o' me knows," said Dinny; “but it's 
moighty plisaiit out here. I'm toired o' pipe-claying me belts 
and marching and being senthry, and they may make me 
prishner as long as they like."^ 

“ You didn't half kill one of them, and they don't bear 
malice against you," said the sailor, thoughtfully. 

“ An' is it malice? Why, didn't I thry to run wan of 'em 
through wid me bagnet, and attimpt to shoot the other? Mal- 
ice! I belave they liked it, for we've been the best o' friends 
iver since. Here, Bart, me lad; Dick here wants to shake 
hands with yez. 

“ I don't," said the sailor, sternly; but as Bart came from 
4 


98 


COMMODO'bE JUNK. 


where he had been taking a pull at one of the ropes, smiling 
and open-handed, Dick^s face relaxed. 

“ That was a pretty good wrastle,^^ said Bart, running his 
eye approvingly over the physique of his late opponent, and 
gripping Dick^s hand heartily; “ but I got the best of you/^ 

L)ick did not ansv^cr, but he returned the grip, and Bart 
went aft directly to relieve Jack at the tiller, while the dark- 
ness came on rapidly, and with it the breeze increased in force 
till the cutter careened over and rapidly left the island behind. 

“ Well, Dennis Kelly,^^ said the sailor, as they sat together 
on board later, with the stars gathering overhead, and faint 
sounds wafted to them from time to time as they glided rapidly 
along a few miles from land, “ you can only make one thing 
of it, my boy, and that’s piracy; and piracy’s yard-arm, and a 
swing at the end of the rope.” 

^‘Ah! get along wid ye,’^ said Dinny, contemptuously, 

and don’t call things by bad names. They’re three very 
plisant fellows, and they’ve borried tne boat and taken us 
prishners to help them in the cruise; or, if ye like it better, 
we’re pressed men.” 

‘‘ But what are they going to do next?” 

‘‘ Divil a bit do I know, and the divil a bit do I care. I’ve 
no belts to pipe-clay, and you’ve no deck to holy-stone. What 
there is to ate they share wid ye, and they take their turn at 
the watch. Sure, it’s a gintleman’s life, and what more would 
ye have?” 

“But it’s piracy — rank piracy!” said Dick, stubbornly; 
“ and I want to know what we’re going to do next.” 

“ Well, thin. I’ll tell ye,” said Dinny; “ but it’s a saycret, 
moind.” 

“ Well, what?” 

“ It’s a saycret, moind,” said Dinny, “ and ye won’t tell?” 

“ Tell! Who is there to tell here?” 

“ Nobody yet; but ye’ll keep the saycret?” 

“Yes,” said Dick, earnestly. “What are they going to 


“Didn’t I say I’d tell ye,” said Dinny, “as soon as I 
know?” 

“ Yah!” snarled Dick. 

“ Well,” cried Dinny, “ how can I tell ye till I know? 
Why, it’s my belief, Dick, me lad, that they don’t know them- 
selves.” 

“ Where do you mean to go, Abel?” said Jack, at last. 
“Go, my lass — my lad!” he said, correcting himself. 
“ Anywhere. We can’t touch port, but we’ve got a tidy little 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


99 


vessel, not too big to manage, and we must sail somewhere to 
be safe/^ 

‘‘ Well, 1 don^t care,^^ came from forward, as Dick raised 
his voice in stubborn reiteration with Dinny. ‘‘ I says it^’s 
piracy, and if they’re ketched, they’ll all be hanged.” 

A dead silence fell upon the little group, and at last it was 
Bart who spoke, as if to himself. 

“ If you helps yourself to a bit o’ anything that comes 
ashore, they says it’s wrecking; and if you want a drop o’ 
brandy or a bit o’ lace from a furrin boat, it’s smuggling; and 
now, if a man wants to get away, and lights for his liberty, 
he’s a pirate.” 

“ For seizing a vessel, Bart,” said Jack. 

‘‘ Yes, lad, I know. Well, they may call me what they 
like. Here we are, and we’ve got to live. ” 

“ Where d’ye think they’ll sail?” said Dick again, raising 
his voice, but in ignorance that the words could reach the 
group by the tiller. 

“ Where shall we sail?” said Jack, who was ‘steering. “ I 
don’t know, for all before us seems black; but I’ve saved my 
brother and his true old friend, so let fate guide us: the world 
is very wide. ’ ’ 

“ Yes, Dinny, I don’t mind for a change; but it’s piracy, 
and I hope as we sha’n’t all be hung.” 

“ The same to you,” said Dinny, giving the sailor’s shoulder 
a sounding slap. 

“ Piracy!” said Jack, softly, as the boat glided on. “ Well, 
it was not our choice, and, at all events, we’re free.” 


CHAPTEE XVI. 

AFTER A LAPSE. 

Then we’ll die for it, Bart,” said Jack, fiercely. 

“ If so be as you says die for it now, or to-morrow, or next 
day, or next week, die it is, my lad,” said Bart, despondently; 
“ but luck’s agen us, and we’re beat. Why not give up?” 

“Give up?” cried Jack, whose appearance was somewhat 
altered by his two years of hard sea-life in the tropics since the 
night when the cutter sailed away into the darkness of what 
seemed to be their future. “ Give up?” 

“ Yes; and back out of it all. Why not take passage some- 
where, not as Jack, Commodore Junk’s brother, but as bonny 
Mary Dell o’ Devonshire, going back home along o’ Bart 
Wrigley, as is Bartholomew by rights?” 

“ Well?” said Jack, sternly. 


100 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


Doii^’t; look black at me, my lad. I^m tired o^ boarding 
ships and sending people adrift.'’^ 

“ Growing afraid, Bart?^^ 

“ Yes, my lad; but not for Bart Wrigley. For some one 
else.’" 

“You are preaching to-night, Bart.’" 

“ May be, my lad, for it’s solemn times; and something 
keeps a-saying to me: ‘ Don’t run no more risks! There’s Old 
Devon a-waiting for you, and there’s the old cottage and the 
bay, and you’ve got the money to buy a decent lugger, and 
there’s plenty o’ fish in the sea." "" 

“ Go on,’" said Jack, mockingly. 

“ Ay, lad, I will,” said Bart. “ And you might settle down 
there, and live happy with a man there to wait on you and be 
your sarvant — ay, your dog if you liked; and some day, if you 
thought better of it, and was ready to say, ‘ Bart, my lad, 
you’ve been a true chap to me, and I know as you’ve loved 
me ever since you was a boy, so now I’ll be your wife," why, 
then — " ’ 

Bart stopped with his lips apart, gazing wonderingly at the 
angry countenance before him. 

“ You madman! What are you saying?” was hissed into 
his ears. “ Mary Dell died when she left her home, driven 
away by man’s tyranny — when she sought out her brother and 
his friend, to find them working like slaves in that plantation. 
It was John Dell who became your companion: Mary Dell is 
dead.” 

“No,” said Bart, speaking softly and with a homely pathos, 
full of a poetical sentiment that could not have been expected 
from his rough exterior as he sat on the deck of a long, low, 
heavily sparred schooner. “ No, my lad, Mary Dell isn’t dead. 
She’s hidden here in my breast, where I can look inward and 
see the bonny lass with the dark eyes and long black hair as I 
knowed I loved as soon as I knowed what love meant, and as 
long as I live that lass will never die. "" 

“Hush, Bart; old friend!” said Jack, softly. “Let her 
live, then, there; but to me she is dead, and I live to think of 
her persecutions, and how for two years man has pursued us 
with his bitter hatred, and hunted us down as if 'we were sav- 
age beasts.” 

“Ay,” said Bart, softly; “ but isn’t it time to take the 
other road, and get away?” 

“No,” said Jack, fiercely. “Bart, old friend — you are 
my friend. "" 

“ Friend!” said Bart, in a reproachful tone. 


COMMODORE JUNE. 


101 


Yes. I know you are; but once more, if you value my 
friendship, never speak to me again as you have spoken now.^' 

“ You’re captain, my lad. Til do what you like.’’ 

“ I know you will. Well, then, do you think I can forgive 
the treatment we have received? It has been a dog’s life, I 
tell you — the life of a savage dog.” 

‘‘ Ay, but we’ve bit pretty sharp sometimes,” said Bart, 
smiling. “ See how we’ve growed, too. First it was the bit 
of a canoe thing as you came in up the creek. ” 

Jack nodded. 

“ Then we took the cutter.” 

“ Yes, Bart.” 

“ And with that cutter we took first one ship, and then 
with that another, always masters, and getting, bit by bit, 
stout, stanch men.” 

“ And savages,” said Jack, bitterly. 

“ W^ell, yes, some on ’em is savage like, specially Mazzard.” 

“ Black Mazzard is a ruffianly wretch!” 

“ True, lad; but we’ve gone on and got better and stronger, 
Jill we have under our feet the swiftest schooner as swims the 
sea, and Commodore Junk’s name’s knowli all along the 
coast.” 

“ And hated, and a price set upon his head; and now that 
he is a prisoner his people turn against him, and his most 
faithful follower wants to go and leave him in the lurch.” 

“Nay, don’t say that, my lad,” cried Bart. “We was 
overmatched, and he was took.” 

“ Yes, by his men’s cowardice.” 

“ Nay, you’re cross, my lad,” said Bart, unconsciously rais- 
ing one arm and drawing back the sleeve to readjust a band- 
age. “ Month to-night and the deck was running into the 
scuppers with blood, half the lads was killed, and t’other half 
all got a wound. We was obliged to sheer off.” 

“ Yes, you coward! you left your captain to his fate.” 

“ But I saved the captain’s — brother,” said Bart, slowly, 
“ or he’d have been shut up in prison along with poor Abel 
now.” 

“ Better so,” said the other, fiercely; “ and then there ’d be 
an end of a persecuted life.” 

“ Better as it is,” said Bart, quietly; “ but I did save you.” 

“ Bart, old lad, don’t take any notice of what I say,” whis- 
pered Jack. 

“ I don’t, lad, when you’re put out. I never do. ” 

“ Don’t speak to me like that. It maddens me more.” 

“ No, it don’t, lad. It’s only me speaking, and you may 


102 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


hammer me with words all night if it does you good. I don^t 
mind. I^m only Bart. 

“ My true old friend/^ whispered the other, quickly; ** but 
it^s time they were back. 

“ Nay, not yet,’^ said Bart, as the other stood gazing over 
the side of the schooner toward where a long, low bank of 
mist seemed to shut out everything beyond. 

“ TheyVe been gone two hours, and it's now four bells." 

“ Ay, and it'll be six bells before they get back, and it's a 
long way to row. Do you mean to try it, then?" 

*°Tryit! Yes, if I die in the attempt. Did 1 hesitate 
when you two were on the plantation, and I was alone and — a 
boy!" 

Not you," said Bart. 

Then, do you think I shall hesitate now that I have a 
ship and followers to back me up?" 

Bart shook his head. 

“ Abel must be saved; and the men agree." 

“Ay; they say they'll have the skipper out of the prison, 
or they'll die. first." 

“ Brave fellows!" cried Jack, enthusiastically. 

“ But 1 don't see how a schooner's to attack forts and can- 
non and stone walls. My lad, it can't be done." 

“ It shall be done!" cried Jack. “ How's Dinny?" 

“ Bit weak still; but he says he can fight, and he shall go." 

“ Brave, true-hearted fellow! And Dick?" 

“ Says he shall be well enough to go; but he won't — he's 
weak as a rat." 

Jack drew a deep breath, and a fiercely vindictive look 
flashed from the dark eyes which glared at Bart. 

“ They shall suffer for all this. Abel will pay them their 
due." 

“ Ay," said Bart; and then to himself: “ when he gets 
away." 

“It was a cruel, cowardly fight — four to one." 

“ He would attack," said Bart, heavily. - “ He'd had 
such luck that he wouldn't believe he could be beat." 

“ He was right," said the other, fiercely. “ He is not 
beaten, for we will fetch him out, and he shall pay them bit- 
terly for all this." 

The speaker strode forward, and went below into the cabin, 
while Bart drew his breath hard as he rose from where he had 
been seated and limped, slightly bending down once to press 
his leg where a severe flesh-wound was received on the night 
of the engagement when Abel Dell — whose name had begun 


COMMODORE JtJMK. 103 

to be well known for freebootiug enterprise as Commodore 
Jimk — had been taken prisoner. 

Bart walked to the forecastle, where, on descending, he 
found Diniiy and Dick Dullock playing cards, the life they had 
led with their three companions being one to which they had 
settled down without a hint of change. 

“ Well,"' asked Dinny, looking up from his dirty cards, 
“ what does he say?" 

Dick the sailor gazed inquiringly at both in turn. 

“ Says he shall fetch the captain out." 

Dinny whistled. 

“ And what does Black Mazzard say?" asked Dick. 

Don't know. Hasn't been asked. " 

“ Look here," said Dick, in a low voice. There's going 
to be trouble over this. JBlack Mazzard’s captain now, he 
says, and he's got to be asked. He was down here swearing 
about that boat being sent off, and he's been drunk and sav- 
age ever since." 

“ Hist! What's that?" said Dinny, starting up, and then 
catching at Bart's shoulder to save himself from falling. 
“ Head swims," he said, apologetically. 

“ Ay, you're weak, lad," said Bart, helping him back to 
his seat. “ Why, the boat's back!" 

He hurried on deck, to find a boat alongside, out of which 
four men climbed on deck, while Jack Dell, who had just 
heard the hail, came hurrying up. 

‘‘ Well?" he said." “ What news?" 

The one spoken to turned away and did not answer. 

“ Do you hear?" cried Jack, catching him by the shoulder 
as a heavy-looking man came on deck, lurched slightly, re- 
covered himself, and then walked fiercely and steadily up to 
the group. 

‘‘ Bad news, captain," said another of the men, who had 
just come aboard. 

“Bad — news?" said Jack, heavily. 

“ Bad news of the commodore!" said the heavy-looking fel- 
low, who was now swaying himself to and fro, evidently drunk 
in body but sober in mind. 

“ Yes," said the man who had first spoken, “ bad news. " 

“Tell me," cried Jack, hoarsely, as he pressed forward to 
gaze full in the speaker's face, “ what is it? They have not 
sent him away?" 

The man was silent; and as the rest of the crew, attracted 
by the return of the boat, clustered round. Jack reeled. 


104 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ Stand by, my lad/^ whispered Bart at his ear. Don^t 
forget.'’^ 

The words seemed to give nerve to the sturdy, broad-shoul- 
dered young man, who spoke hoarsely. 

“Tried and condemned, he said, in a hoarse, strange 
voice. “ TheyVe hung him — ’’ 

“ What?’^ 

“ In chains on a gibbet. 

A hoarse, guttural sound escaped from Jack^s throat as he 
clung tightly to Barths arm. 

“ The gibbet’s on the low point by the mangrove swamp,” 
said the man. “ They’ve cut down two palms about a dozen 
feet and nailed another across, and the captain’s swinging 
there.” 

“ A lie!” yelled Jack; “ not my brother!” 

There was a dead pause of utter silence for a few moments, 
and then the man said slowly: 

“ Yes, we all saw it and made sure;” and a murmur of ac- 
quiescence arose from his three companions, who had been in 
the boat in search of far different information to that which 
they had brought. 

“ But not my brother?” groaned Jack. 

“ Yes,” said the man. “It was Commodore Junk.” 

As a dead silence once more fell upon the poop, the dark, 
heavy-looking man stood swaying to and fro for a few minutes, 
gazing down at Jack, who had dropped into a sitting position 
upon a water-keg, his arms resting upon his knees, his hands 
hanging, and his head drooped; while Bart stood by his shoul- 
der, with his face wrinkled and a pained expression upon his 
brow, just illumined by the bright glint of the stars. 

The heavy man nodded and seemed about to speak, but re- 
mained silent for a time. Then patting Jack on the shoulder: 

“Brave lad! Good captain! For time of war!” he said. 
“ But never mind, my lads. We’ll pay them for it yet.” 

He lurched slightly and walked slowly toward the captain’s 
cabin, unnoticed by Jack and Bart; but Dinny’s eyes were 
sharp enough to read what all this meant, and he turned to 
his comrade Dick. 

“ Look at that, now!” he whispered. 

“ Ay, I was looking. What does it mean?” 

“ Mane!” said Dinny, scornfully. “ It manes that Black 
Mazzard thinks he’s captain now. ” 

“Then if the throat-cutting scoundrel is, I’m off first 
chance.” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


105 


‘‘ An^ rm wid ye/^ said Dinny, earnestly. ‘‘Til go and 
lade a virtuous life.-*^ 

“ And leave the skipper^s brother and Bart?^-’ 

Dinny pulled off his cap and rubbed his head viciously. 

“ Now, why did ye want to go and say that?^^ he cried. 
‘‘ Ivery thing was as aisy as could be, and you go and upset it 


‘‘ Poor Abel!’^ said Jack, at last, softly. 

‘‘ Ay, poor old Abel!^^ said Bart, with a groan. 

“You here?’^ said Jack, starting up and catching the rough 
fellow by the arm. 

“Here? — ay!"^ growled Bart, slowly. “Where did you 
think 1 was, lad?” 

“ I didn^t think, Bart, or 1 shouldn't have said that,” cried 
Jack, earnestly. “ Where would you be but at my elbow if I 
was in trouble, ready to be of help?” 

“ Ay, but tWe^s no helping you here, lad,” said Bart, with 
a groan. 

No helping me! But you can, Bart. Do you wonder 
that I hate the world? that I see it all as one crowd of enemies 
fighting against me and trying to crush me down? Not help 
me! Oh, but you shall! My poor brother! They shall pay 
heavily for this!” 

“ WhatTl you do, lad?” said Bart, despondently. 

“ Do!” cried Jack, with a savage laugh — “ do what poor 
Abel always hung back from doing, and stopped Black Maz- 
zard from many a time. 1 don^’t read my Bible now, Bart; 
but doesnT it say that there shall be blood for blood; and my 
poor brother's cries aloud for vengeance, as they shall see!” 

“ No, no, my lad,” whispered Bart, hoarsely; “ let it stop 
here. It seems to me as if something said: ‘ This here’s the 
end on it. Now get her to go back home.’ ” 

“ Home!” said Jack, with a fierce laugh. “ Where is 
home?” 

“ Yonder,” said Bart, stolidly. 

“No! Here — at sea. Bart, there is no other home for 
me; no other hope but to have revenge!” 

“ Eevenge, lad?” 

“ Ay, a bitter, cruel revenge. I could have been different. 
I was once full of love and hope before I knew what the world 
was like, but that’s all past ahd dead— yes, dead; and the dead 
yonder is looking toward me and asking me to remember what 
we have suffered. ” 

“But think.” 

“ Think, Bart! I have thought till my brain has seemed 


106 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


to burn; and everything points to revenge, and revenge I^ll 
have!’^ 

“It’s the end of it all now,” said Bart, solemnly. “ Let’s 
go back.” 

“ The way is open, Bart "Wrigley. 1 have no hold upon 
you, and I can work alone. Go!” 

“You wouldn’t talk like that,” said Bart, huskily, “ if 
yon was cool.” 

“ What do you mean, man?” 

“’Bout me going,” said Bart, in a low, husky voice. 
“ There’s only one way for me, and that’s where you go, lad. 
It alius has been, and it alius will be till I’m took. What are 
you going to do?” 

The question was asked in a quick, decisive way, very differ- 
ent to the despondent air that had pervaded his words before, 
and the manner was so marked that Jack laid his hands on his 
companion’s shoulders. 

“ It’s my fate to be always saying bitter things to you, Bart, 
and wounding you.” 

“ Never mind about that,” said Bart, huskily. “ Long as 
I’m the one as you trusts, that’s enough for me. What are 
you going to do next?” 

There was no answer for a few minutes, and then the words 
whispered were very short and decisive. 

“ And let ’em think it’s scared us, and we’ve gone right 
away?” said Bart. 

“Yes.” ■ 

Bart gave a short, quick nod of the head, walked sharply to 
the forecastle, and yelled to the men to tumble up. The re- 
sult was that in a very short time sail after sail was spread till 
a dusky cloud seemed to hover over the deck of the schooner, 
which heeled over in the light breeze and began skimming 
as lightly as a yacht eastward, as if to leave the scene of the 
commodore’s execution far behind. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE GIBBET SPIT. 

It had been a baking day in the town of St. George, British 
Honduras, and the only lively things about the place had been 
the lizards. The sky had seemed to be of burnished brass, and 
the sea of molten silver, so dazzling that the eye was pained 
which fell upon its sheen. The natives were not troubled by 
the heat, for they sought out shady places, and went to sleep, 
but the British occupants of the port kept about their houses, 


COMMODORE JUMK. l07 

and looked as if they wished they were dogs, and could hang 
out their tongues and pant. 

St. George, always a dead-and-alive tropic town, now seemed 
to be the dead alone; and as if to prove that it was so, the last 
inhabitant seemed to have gone to the end of the spit by the 
marsh beyond the port, where every one who landed or left 
could see, and there hung himself up as a sign of the desola- 
tion and want of animation in the place. 

For there, pendent from the palm-tree gibbet, alone in the 
most desolate spot near the port, was the buccaneering cap- 
tain, whose name had become a by-word a>l along the coast, 
whose swift-sailing schooner had captured vessels by the score, 
and robbed and burned till Commodore Junk^s was a name to 
speak of with bated breath; and the captains of ships, whether 
British or visitors from foreign lands,, made cautious inquiries 
as to whether he had been heard of in the neighborhood before 
they ventured to sea, and then generally found that they had 
been misled. For that swift schooner was pretty certain to 
appear right in their path, with the result that their vessels 
would be boarded, the captain and crew sent afloat in their 
boat not far from laud, and the ship would be plundered, and 
then scuttled after all that attracted the buccaneers had been 
secured. 

There had been rejoicings when the king^s ship, sent over 
expressly to put an end to piracy, found. and had an engage- 
ment with the schooner — one of so successful a nature that 
after the bloody fight was over, and the furious attack by 
boarding baffled, three prisoners remained in the hands of the 
naval captain, two of whom w’ere wounded unto death, and the 
other uninjured, and who proved to be the captain who had 
headed the boarders. 

Abel Deirs shrift had been a short one. Fortune had been 
against him, after a long career of success.^ He saw his ship 
escape crippled, and he ground his teeth as he called her occu- 
pants cowards for leaving him in the lurch, being, of course, 
unaware that the retreat was due to his lieutenant, Abram 
Mazzard, while when she returned through the determined 
action of Jack, it came too late, for Abel Dell, otherwise Com- . 
modore Junk, was acting as awvarning to pirates, his last voy- 
age being over. 

The heat seemed to increase on that torrid day till nightfall, 
when clouds gathered, and the flickering lightning flashed out 
and illumined the long banks of vapor, displaying their fan- 
tastic shapes, to be directly after reflected from the surface of 
the barely rippled sea. 


108 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


‘‘ Hadn't we better give up for a bit? Storm may pass be* 
fore morning," whispered the thick-set figure standing close 
by the wheel. 

‘‘No, Bart; we must go to-night," was the reply. “ Is all 
ready?" 

“ Ay, ready enough; but I don't like the job." 

“ Give up, then, and let Dinny come." 

“ Did you ever know me give up?" growled Bart. “ 'Tain't 
that; it's leaving the ship. Black Mazzard ar'n't to be 
trusted." 

“ What? Pish! he dare do nothing." 

“Not while you're here, my lad. It's when you're gone 
that I feel scared." 

“ You think—" 

“ I think he's trying to get the men over to his side, and 
some on 'em hold with him." 

Jack remained thoughtful for a few minutes. 

“It is only lightning, Bart. There'll be no storm. We 
can get what we want done in six hours at the longest, and he 
can do nothing in that time — he will do nothing in that time 
if you put a couple of bottles of rum within his reach." 

Bart uttered a low, chuckling laugh. 

“ That's what I have done," he said. 

“ Then we're safe enough. Where's Dinny?" 

“ Forward, along of Dick." 

“ Tell them to keep a sharp lookout while we're gone, and 
to be on the watch for the boat. " 

Half an hour later, when the schooner was deemed to be 
near enough for the purpose, an anchor was lowered down, to 
take fast hold directly in the shallow bottom, a boat was 
lowered into which Jack and Bart stepped, the former ship- 
ping the little rudder, and Bart stepping a short mast and 
hauling up a big sail, when the soft sea-breeze sent them glid- 
ing swiftly along. 

“ He was asleep in the cabin," said Bart. “ Soon be yon- 
der if it holds like this. Do you feel up to it, my lad, as if 
you could venter?" 

“ Yes," said Jack, sternly. 

“ But it's a wicked job, my lad, and more fit for men." 

“ I've thought all that out, Bart," was the reply. “ I 
know. It is my duty, and I shall do it. Are the pistols 
loaded?" 

“ Trust me for that," growled Bart. “ They're loaded 
enough, and the cutlasses has edges like razors. So has my 
ax." 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


109 


Have you the tools 

“ Everything, my lad. Trust me for that.'^ 

“ I do trust you, Bart, always. 

“ And how are we to find our way back to the schooner in 
the dark?^^ 

We shall not find our way back in the dark, Bart, but sail 
right out here as near as we can guess, and then lie to till 
day-break. 

Bart kept his eyes fixed upon one particular light, and tried 
to calculate their bearings from its relation to another behind; 
but all the same he felt in doubt, and shook his head again 
and again, when some blinding fiash of lightning gave him a 
momentary glance of the shore. 

But Jack did not hesitate for a moment, keeping the boat^s 
head in one direction with unerring instinct, till the waves 
were close upon their left, and it seemed that in another min- 
ute they must be swamped. 

Bart half rose, ready to swim for his life, as the boat leaped 
high, then seemed to dive down headlong, rose again, dived, 
and then danced lightly up and down for a few minutes before 
gliding slowly on again. 

“ Was that the bar?’^ he whispered, eagerly. 

Yes. It is rough at this time of the tide,^^ was the an- 
swer, given in the calmest manner, for Jack had not stirred. 

Bart drew a breath full of relief. 

“ Be ready. 

‘‘ Ready it is.'’^ 

Down sail.^^ 

The little yard struck, the sail collapsed, and, acting by the 
impetus already given, the boat glided forward some distance 
and then grated upon a bed of sand. 

Bart shuddered slightly, but he was busy all the while 
arranging the sail ready for rapid hoisting; and this done, he 
carried the grapnel out some fifteen or twenty yards from the 
bows and fixed it cautiously in the shore. 

He was about to return when a hand was laid upon his 
shoulder — a hand which seemed to come out of the black dark- 
ness. 

Bart snatched a pistol from his belt, and put it back with a 
grunt. 

‘‘ I didn^'t know it was you,^^ he said, in a hoarse whisper. 

Lightning seems to make it darker. Where away?^^ 

“ Fifty yards south,'’' said Jack, quietly. 

“ Then look here, my lad. I don't want to disobey orders; 
but I'm a man and you're only a — " 


110 COMMODORB JUKI. 

“ Man/^ said Jack, quietly. 

“ Then you stop by the boat and — 

“Bart!^^ 

“Nay, nay, let me speak, my lad. Let me say all I want. 
You can trust me. If Bart Wrigley says he^ll do a thing for 
you, heTl do it if he’s got the strength and life in him. So 
let me do this, while you wait for me. Come, now, you will?” 

“ No! Come with me. I must be there.” 

Bart drew in a deep breath, and muttered to himself as he 
listened to the peculiarly changed voice in which his com- 
panion spoke. 

“ You’re master,” he said; “ and I’m ready.” 

“ Yes. Take my hand, and speak lower. There may be 
watchers about.” 

For answer Bart gripped his companion’s hand, and together 
they walked for some distance along the hard sand, where the 
spray from the rollers swept up. Then turning inland sud- 
denly, they had taken about twenty steps to the west when a 
vivid flash of lightning showed them that their calculations 
had been exact, for there before them in all its horror, and not 
a dozen yards away, stood the rough gibbet with the body of a 
man pendent from the cross-beam, the ghastly object having 
stood out for a moment like a huge cameo cut in bold relief 
upon some mass of marble of a solid bla*ck. 

“Abel! Brother!” moaned Jack, running forward to sink 
kneeling in' the sand, and for a few moments, as Bart stood 
there in the black darkness with his head instinctively un- 
covered, there arose from before him the wild hysterical sob- 
bings of a woman, at first in piteous appeal to the dead, then 
in fierce denunciation of his murderers; but as the last cry 
rang out there was a flickering in the sky, as if the avant 
garde of another vivid flash — the half-blinding sheet of flame 
which lighted up the gibbet once again; and it seemed strange 
to Bart that no woman was there, only the figure of a short, 
well-built man, who stood looking toward him, and said in a 
hoarse, firm voice: 

“We are not likely to be interrupted; but to work, quick!” 

“ Bight!” said Bart, hoarsely; and directly after, a rustling 
sound, accompanied by heavy breathing, was heard in the 
black darkness, followed soon after by the clinking of iron 
against iron. 

There was a faint flicker in the sky again, but no following 
flash, and the darkness seemed to have grown more intense, as 
the panting of some one engaged in a work requiring great ex- 
ertion came from high up out of the ebon darkness. 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


Ill 


The file, man, the file/^ 

Nay, I^]l wrench it came from where the panting 
was heard. Then there was more grating of iron against iron, 
repeated again and again, when, just as an impatient ejacula- 
tion was heard, there was a loud snap, as if a link had been 
broken, a dull thud of a bar falling, and the panting noise in- 
creased. 

“ Now, lad, quick! Can you reach? That^s right. Steady! 
I can lower a little more. Easy. A little more away. You 
have all the weight now. May 1 let go?” 

Yes. 

There was the clank of a chain. Then a heavy thud, as if 
some one had dropped to the ground, and then the chain 
clanked again. 

‘‘No, no; wait a moment, my lad. Lower down. That’s 
it. Let’s leave these cursed irons behind.” 

The rough grating of iron sounded again, the heavy panting 
was resumed, and another sharp crack or two arose, followed 
by the fall of pieces on the sand. 

“ That’s it!” muttered Bart, as a dull clang arose from the 
earth. “We needn’t have been afraid of any one watching 
here.” 

“rilhelp.” 

“ Nay; I want no help,” panted Bart, as he seemed to be 
lifting some weight. You lead on, my lad. Pity we 
couldn’t have landed here.” 

The reason was obvious; for seaward the waves could be 
heard rushing in and out of a reef with many a strange whis- 
per and gasping sound, giving plain intimation that a boat 
would have been broken up by the heavy waves. 

“ Shall I go first?” 

“Ay; go first, my lad. Keep close to the water’s edge, 
and you must kick against the rope. ” 

There proved to be no need to trust to this, for, as they 
reached the water’s edge, where the sand, instead of being 
ankle deep, was once more smooth and hard, a phosphorescent 
gleam rose from the breaking waves, and the wet shore glist- 
ened with tiny points of light, which were eclipsed from time 
to time as the two dark, shadowy figures passed slowly along, 
the first accommodating its pace to that of the heavily bur- 
dened second, till the first stopped short close to where the 
boat was moored. 

It was plain to see, for the rope shone through the shallow 
water, as if gilded with pale, lambent gold; while, when it 
was seized and drawn rapidly, the boat came skimming in. 


112 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


driving from each side of its bows a film as of liquid moonlight 
spread thinly over the water beyond, where the waves broke 
upon the sand. 

There was the sound of a voice as the figures waded in, one 
holding the boat, and the other depositing his burden there. 

“ What^s that?'^ whispered Bart. , ‘‘ Did you speak?^^ 

“ Quick! Get hold of the grapnel. No. On board, lad, 
quick 

‘‘ Halt! Who goes there cried a voice close by from 
where the darkness was thickest. 

For answer Bart cut the grapnel line, made sure that his 
companion was in the boat, and then, exerting his great 
strength, he ran out with it through the shallow water, just 
as there was a vivid flash of lightning, revealing, about twenty 
yards away, a group of soldiers standing on the rough shore, 
just beyond the reach of the tide. 

Halt!^'’ was shouted again, followed by a warning. And 
then followed a series of rapid orders; four bright flashes 
darted from as many muskets, and the bullets whistled over- 
head, the intense darkness which had followed the lightning 
disturbing the soldiers’ aim. 

Orders to reload were heard; but the boat was well afloat 
by now, and Bart had crawled in, the tiller had been seized, 
and the sail was rapidly hoisted, the wind caught it at once, 
and by the time another flash of lightning enabled the patrol 
to make out where the boat lay, it was a hundred yards from 
shore, and running rapidly along the coast. 

A volley was fired as vainly as the first, and as the bullets 
splashed up the water, Bart laughed. 

They may fire now,” he said. ‘‘We shall be a hundred 
yards further before they’re ready again.” 

They sailed- on into the darkness for quite two hours, dur- 
ing which the lightning ceased, and the mutterings of the 
thunder were heard no more. But though a careful lookout 
was kept — and Bart felt that they had pretty well calculated 
the position of the schooner — they could not find her, and the 
sail was lowered down. 

“We’ve gone quite far enough,” growled Bart. “ Where’s 
that light that Dinny was to show?” 

There was no answer, and no light visible from where they 
lay for the next three hours, waiting patiently till the first 
faint streak of dawn should show them the waiting vessel, and 
their ghastly burden could be carried aboard ready for a sailor’s 
grave. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 113 

‘‘It is a trick, Bart/^ said Jack, at last, as he glanced at 
their freight lying forward beneath a spare sail. 

“ Ay, I felt it, my lad,^^ said Bart, frowning. “ I felt it 
last night. Black Mazzard ain^t the man to leave alone; and 
what’s a couple o’ bottles o’ rum to such as he?” 

“The villain! the coward!” cried Jack, bitterly. “At a 
time like this!” 

“ Ay, it’s a bad time, my lad,” said Bart, “ but we’ve done 
our work, poor chap; and the sea’s the sea, whether it’s olf a 
boat or a schooner. You mean that, don’t you, now?” 

“ No,” said Jack, fiercely, as he pointed to the back fins of 
a couple of sharks. 

“ Ugh!” ejaculated Bart. “What, then, my lad?” 

“ To find the schooner first, and if not, to make for one of 
the little islands, where we’ll land. ” 

“ Little more to the west, my lad,” said Bart, after they 
had been sailing in silence for some time. “ You’ll land on 
the Sandy Key, won’t you?” 

“ Yes,” said Jack, shortly, as he sat there with eyes fixed 
and frowning brow. 

“ Poor old Abe!” said Bart, to himself, as he gazed in turn 
at the ghastly object in the bottom of the boat. “ One never 
used to think much of dying in the old days; but if one did, 
it was of being drowned at sea, washed ashore, and buried 
decently in the old church-yard atop of the hill. And now, 
old mate, after being a captain out here, we’re a-going to lie 
you over yonder in the warm, dry sand, where the sun always 
shines and the cocoa-nuts grow; but you’ll have no tombstone, 
lad, and no words writ, only such as is writ ^n her heart, for 
she loved you, Abe, old mate, more than she’ll ever love me.” 

A sharp lookout was kept for the schooner; but though the 
horizon was swept again and again, she was not in sight. 

“It’s one o’ Black Mazzard’s games, lad,” Bart said at 
last, as a faint, cloudy appearance was visible on their bow; 
“ but we shall find him yonder. ” 

Jack bowed his head in acquiescence, and the boat skimmed 
rapidly on, till the cloudy appearance began to take the form 
of a low island, from whose sandy shore cocoa-nut palms waved 
their great pinnate leaves, looking lace-like against the clear 
blue sky. 

In a couple of hours they were close in, and the boat was 
run up in a sandy cove sheltered by a point, with the result 
that, instead of the tide setting in heavy rollers, there was 
just a soft curl over the waves, and a sparkling foam to wash 
the fine pebble sand. 


114 


COMMODORE JUITK. 


No/^ said Bart, speaking as if in answer to his companion. 

‘‘Never mind/’ said Jack, quietly. “We shall find the 
schooner by and by. Let’s land. ” 

Bart assisted to draw the boat well ashore, waiting till a 
good-sized wave came, and then running the boat on its crest 
some yards further up the sand. 

He looked up then at Jack, who nodded his head, and the 
canvas-draped figure was lifted out and borne up to where the 
sand lay soft and thick, as it had been drifted by the gales of 
the stormy season. 

As Bart bent beneath his burden he nearly trod upon one of 
the great land-crabs, with which the place seemed to swarm, 
the hideous creatures scuffling awkwardly out of his way, snap- 
ping their claws menacingly, and rolling their horrible eyes, 
which stood out on foot-stalks far from their shelly orbits, 
and gave them a weird look as they seemed to be inspeciing 
the canvas- wrapped bag. 

“ Here?” said Bart, as they reached a smooth spot, where 
a clump of palms made a slight shade. 

“ Yes,” was the laconic reply. 

“ No tools,” said Bart, half to himself; “ but it don’t mat- 
ter, Abe, old lad. I can scratch a grave for you, and cut 
your name arter with my knife on one o’ them trees.” 

He laid his load tenderly down upon the sand, in the 
shadiest spot, and then, stripping off his jacket and rolling up 
his sleeves over his muscle- knotted arms, he began to scrape 
the sand away rapidly, and soon made a long, narrow trench, 
though it was not easy work, for the soft, fine, dry sand flowed 
slowly, as if it were a liquid, back into the trench. 

“ That will do,” said Jack, suddenly rising from where he 
had been kneeling by Abel’s side. 

Bart ceased his task without another word, and at a sign 
from his companion reverently went to the foot of the canvas- 
covered flgure, while Jack went to the head, and they lifted it 
into the shallow trench. 

“And. never said so much as a prayer over it!” muttered 
Bart to himself, as he rapidly scooped back the sand with his 
hands, till the lower part of his old mate’s body was covered, 
leaving the head instinctively to the last. 

He was then about to heap the sand over grave-wise, but 
Jack stopped him, and, taking a piece of wreck wood, drew it 
along the jJace so as to leave the sand level. 

“ What are you going to do?” he said, sternly, as Bart drew 
his knife. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 115 

Cut a Hay and a Dee on that there tree/' said the man, 
shortly. 

“No."" 

“ Not cut his letters there?"" cried Bart, in a wondering 
tone. 

“ No, man, no. Do you suppose I am going to leave him 
here?’" 

Bart closed his knife with a click, and screwed up his face. 

“ You"re captain,"" he said, quietly; “ what next?"" 

“ Back to the boat."" 

Bart obeyed without another word, and as they walked down 
over the hot sand, it was to pass several of the land-crabs, 
which rolled their eyes and leered at them in a goblin way till 
the boat was launched, the sail hoisted, and they coasted the 
side of the island to get round to its back, and make sure that 
the schooner had not cast anchor off this — one of the rendez- 
vous for boats which had missed the schooner after being sent 
away upon some expedition. 

But their sail availed them nothing. The schooner was not 
off the island, and Bart looked at his companion for orders. 

“ It would take three days to reach the shelter,"" he said at 
last. 

“ With this wind, yes,"" replied Bart. “ No food, no water. 
Shall us get some -nuts?’" 

There was no reply. Jack sat with his arms resting upon 
his knees, holding the tiller and gazing right before him, see- 
ing nothing, but trying to pierce the future. 

“ A-vvonderirig what to do next,"" muttered Bart, watching 
his companion furtively. “ If the poor thing could see the 
old cottage now, and the bay, and a decent lugger lying off 
the point with her sails shivering, would it still be no?"" 

“ Still be no,"" he said to himself, softly; “ and yet I 
wouldn’t ask to be different to what I am."" 

“Mazzard has taken command, Bart,"" said Jack at last, 
“ and we must make a fresh start, my lad."" 

“Ay, ay, sir,"" cried Bart, sharply. 

“ We must get sufficient provisions somehow, and run across 
to the shelter. If the schooner is not there we must wait till 
she comes in."" 

“ And you won"t give up without a struggle?"" 

“ Give up?"" 

“ Hurrah!"" cried Bart, joyously. “ Let’s run up the Usa 
River to one of the Indian places, and get some food and nuts, 
and then be off. Hard down!"" 


116 


COMMODORE JCNIL. 


Instead of obeying and changing the boat^s direction. Jack 
suddenly pointed right away into the distance. 

“ What^s that?^^ 

Bart stood up and sheltered his eyes with his hand, so as to 
get a good view of a triangular piece of sail glistening white in 
the sunshine, far away, about the horizon line. 

‘‘ There ain^t another vessel with a raking sail like that!’^ 
he cried. I shaped that sail. Why, it is she!^^ 

“ Yes,^^ said Jack, after a long look across the dazzling 
blue sea, it^s the schooner, Bart; and she^s coming here.^^ 

The boat danced over the sparkling waves, and three hours 
after she was alongside the schooner, which was hove to — the 
wind being contrary — as soon as the boat was descried by 
those on board. Dinny was the foremost in the group waiting 
to lower down the falls, and in a few minutes the boat hung 
from the davits, and Jack gave a sharp look round as he 
stepped upon the deck. 

“ Why was the schooner not waiting?^^ 

Faix, the captain gave orders for sail to be made,^^ said 
Dinny, in a meaning tone; “ and away we wint.^^ 

“ The captain said Jack, with an angry look in his eyes. 

“ Where is the captain, then?’^ 

“ Sure,^^ cried Dinny, as a murmur ran through the group 
gathered on the deck; ‘‘ sure, he^’s in his cabin, having a 
slape.^^ 

“ It^s all over, Bart, my lad,^^ said Jack, bitterly. ‘‘ What 
will you do — stop and serve under Captain Mazzard, or shall 
we go?^^ 

“ Do?^^ cried Bart, angrily, as he turned toward the men, 
who seemed to be divided into two parties. Look here; I 
canT parley; but is it going to be fair play or no?^^ 

“ Yes!^^ rose with a shout; but it was met by a menacing f 
growl; and one man ran to the cabin, to return directly, half ^ 
dragging, half leading Mazzard, who stared round wildly in a 
drink-stupefied mahner, and fal tered out, as if in answer to a j 
question: ' ' J 

“ No more now! Who^s altered her course?’^ j 

There was a few moments^ silence, during which the self- j 
elected captain stared about him, and tried to comprehend j 
what was going on, for he had just been roused suddenly from ■ 
a rum-engendered sleep, and seemed like one in a dream. 

‘‘ What, isuT anybody going to spake?’^ cried Dinny; “ thin i 
I will. Who althered the ship^s course! Why, I did. D^yer 
think I was going to stand by and see a messmate left in the ■ 
lurch? Look here, my lads; I am not going to make a J 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


117 


spache, but the captain^s dead, and youVe got to choose a 
new one. 

‘‘ Hurrah for Dinny Kelly; he^s the man!^' shouted one of 
the sailors. 

“ If I didn’t know ye can’t help it, Sam Marlow, I’d say 
don’t be a fool!” cried Dinny, scornfully. “ Now, do I look 
like a captain? Bad luck to ye for an omadhaun. I’m a 
foighting man, and not a sailor at all; but ye’ve got to choose 
bethuxt two. Who is it to be — Black Mazzard there, or the 
old captain’s brave little brother. Master Jack here, the best 
sailor, steersman, and bravest little chap that ever stepped on 
a plank? What do you say, Dick?” 

“ Three cheers for Captain Jack!” cried Dick Dullock. 

“ Nay, nay. Commodore Junk!” cried Dinny; “ that 
name’s a power, me boys. Now, then, who among ye says it 
isn’t to be the captain’s brother?” 

“ I do!” cried Mazzard, who was growing sobered by the 
excitement of the scene. I do. I’m captain of the schooner 
now; and if any man dares — ” 

He dragged a pistol from his belt and cocked it. 

‘‘Do you hear?” cried Mazzard again. “I’m captain 
now, and if any man dares to say I’m not, let him — Well, 
no, I won’t give him time' to say his prayers!” 

He stared round the ring of people, of which he now formed 
the center, the pistol barrel pointing all round, as if its holder 
were in search of a mark. 

Just, then Bart stepped forward, but Jack drew him aside. 

“No; let me speak,” he said. 

“ Oh, it’s you, is it, my whipper-snapper!” cried Mazzard, 
scornfully. “ There, we had enough of your little baby of a 
brother, and he’s dead; so now, if you want to keep your skin 
whole, go back to your place, and if you behave yourself I’ll 
make you my cabin-boy. ” 

Jack continued to advance, looking round at the crew, who, 
some fifty strong, had now hurried upon deck. 

“ D’ye hear?” roared Mazzard, who seemed brutally sober 
now. “ Go back, or — ” 

He took aim at Jack with the pistol, and a murmur ran 
round the crew once more — a murmur which was turned to a 
shout of applause, for, gazing full at the drink-inflamed coun- 
tenance before him. Jack stepped right up to Mazzard and 
seized the pistol, which exploded in the air. 

. The next moment it was wrenched out of the ruffian’s hand, 
and sent flying over the side, to fall with a splash in the sea. 

“ Look here, my lads,” cried Jack, turning his back to 


118 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


Mazzard, and ignoring the threatening gesture he made with a 
knife, “ look here, my lads; it is not for any man to say he 
will be your captain. My brave brother is dead— 

“ God rest him cried Dinny. 

“And it is for you to choose some one in his place. Do 
you select Black Mazzard?^’ 

“ roared Dinny, “ the divil a bit! Three cheers, me 
boys, for the bowld little Commodore Junk!’^ 

The crew burst into a roar, even those who had favored 
Mazzard being carried away. 

“ A lad who was niver afraid of anny man^s pishtol,^’ cried 
Dinny, leaping on a cask and waving his cap. 

“ Hurrah!^' shouted the men, enthusiastically. 

“ A lad who has only w^an failing in him.^^ 

“ Hurrah!’^ came in chorus, and a voice said: “ What^s 
that, Dinny 

“ Faix, his mother made a mishtake and let him be born 
out of Oireland.'’^ 

There was another roar, and the crew pressed round Jack, 
whose face flushed as he held up his hand. 

“Stop a minute, my lads I he cried. “ Don^t decide in 
haste, for I shall be a hard officer. ” 

“ And a brave one,’^ shouted Dinny. 

“ Hurrah!'^ 

“ Am I to understand, continued Jack, “that you select 
me for your captain?'^ 

“ Yes, yes,’^ came in a roar. 

“ Then I have a request to make,^^ cried Jack; “ and that 
is, that you support and obey my first lieutenant."’^ 

“ Hurrah for owld Bart Wrigleyl’^ roared Dinny. 

“ No, no, stop!’^ cried Jack. “ I choose my own lieutenant. 
Mazzard, will you serve under me faithfully as a man?’^ 

Black Mazzard stood scowling for a few moments, and then 
held out his hand. 

“ I will,’"’ he said. “ There’s no jealousy in me.” 

“ Hurrah!” shouted the crew again; and directly after the 
new captain gave orders for the schooner’s head to be laid for 
Sandy Key, tovrard which she was soon tacking to and fro. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A HORRIBLE TASK. 

Two days elapsed before the schooner was again well under 
the lee of Sandy Key, and preparations were made to land as 
soon as it grew dusk. 


COMMODORE JUKK. 119 

It was a soft, calm evening, and the sea looked solemn and 
desolate as the sun went down in a bank of clouds, A good 
lookout had been kept, but there was no sign of sail upon the 
widespread sea, while the solemnity of the hour seemed to 
have influenced the men, who had gathered some inklmg of 
their commander’s intentions. 

“ Whisht! Don’t talk about it,” said Dinny to one ques- 
tioner. “ Sure, it’s a whim of the shkipper’s, and if he likes to 
take his brother and bury him a bit more dacently at the shel- 
ter, who has a better right?” 

Are you going?” 

And is it me? They wouldn’t ask me.” 

J ust at the same time a conversation was going on in the 
fore part of the vessel, where the captain had been standing 
for some time with Bart. 

“Nay, nay, my lad,” the latter whispered; “not this 
time.” 

“ Have you got all ready?” 

“ Ay. Just as you said.” 

“ Then, an hour after sundown we’ll go.” 

Bart tightened up his lips and looked more obstinate than 
he had ever before looked in his life. 

“ What is it?” said the captain, sharply. 

“ I was a-thinking,” said Bart, shortly. 

“ Well — of what?” 

“ I was a-thinking that you’ve just been made captain, and 
that the crew’s with you, and that you’re going to chuck it 
away. ” 

“ What do you mean, Bart?” 

“ 1 mean, captain, as so sure as you give the lieutenant an- 
other chance he’ll take it, and the lads, like Dinny and Dick, 
mayn’t have the chance to get Mazzard drunk and come to 
your help. ” 

“ You do nothing but doubt your officer,” said the captain, 
angrily. 

“ More do you,” retorted Bart. 

The captain started, and then turned angrily away; but Bart 
followed him. 

“ You’re skipper, and I’ll do aught you like; but so sure as 
you leave this here ship there’ll be a row, and you won’t be 
able to go again, for you won’t come back.” 

The captain took a turn up and down, and then stopped op- 
posite Bart. 

“ I’ll take your advice, Bart,” he said, “ though it goes 


120 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


ver}^ much against the grain. Take Dinny with you, and do 
this for me as if I were helping you all the time.^^ 

“Ay; you may trust me.'’^ 

“ I do trust you, Bart, heartily. Eemembcr this: Abe] and 
1 were always together as children and companions; to the last 
I loved my brother, Bart."’^ 

Bart listened to the simply uttered words, to which their 
tone and the solemn time gave a peculiar pathos; and for a 
few moments there was silence. 

“ I know,^"* he said, softly. “ And in my rough way I loved 
Abel Dell as a brother. DonT you think because I say naught 
that 1 donT feel it. 

“ I know you too well, Bart. Go and do this for rue; 1 will 
stay aboard, l^m captain now, since fate so wills it, and the 
men shall find that 1 am their head.'’^ 

“ Hah!^^ ejaculated Bart, raising his hand, but dropping it 
again and drawing back. “ That^’s how I like to hear you 
speak, captain. Trust me, it shall be done.^^ 

An hour later the men stood aloof as Bart and Dinny low- 
ered a long deal case into the boat, and as soon as the rope was 
cast off, hoisted the little sail and ran for the sandy cove where 
the boat had landed before. 

They were provided with a lantern, and this they kept 
shrouded in a boat-cloak originally the property of the Spanish 
captain of a vessel that had bfeen taken. 

The precaution was needless, for nothing was within sight; 
and they landed and drew up the boat upon the sand, where 
the phosphorescent water rippled softly, and then the long 
chest was lifted out, and Bart bore it toward the cocoa-nut 
grove. 

“ Well, said Dinny, following close behind, “I did say 
that 1 wouldhT do such work as this; but it's for the captain, 
and may be some day I shall be wanting such a job done for 
me." 

Bart set down the case and Dinny the lantern beneath the 
cocoa-nut trees close by the leveled patch of shore; and then, 
with the dull light shining through the horn panes upon the 
sand, the two men stood in the midst of the faint halo list- 
ening to the soft whispering of the tide among the shingle, 
and the more distant boom of the surf. 

“ It's an unked job," said Bart at last. “ But, poor lad, 
it's the skipper's wish. A lovely spot for a man to be put to 
rest." . 

Dinny did not speak for a few moments. Then with an 
effort: 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


121 


“ Let ^8 get it done, me lad. 1 niver belaved in anny thing 
worse than the good people, and the phooka, and the banshee, 
av coorse; but it makes a man^s flesh seem to crape over his 
bones to come body-snatching, as ye may call it, on a dark 
night like this. 

They both stood hesitating and shrinking from their task 
for a few minutes longer, and then Bart stooped down and 
began to sweep back the sand. 

“It’s laid light over him, Dinny, my lad,” he said. “Just 
sweep it away, and we can lift him into his cofiin. ” 

“But—” 

“He’s wrapped "o a canvas for his winding-sheet, lad. 
Sweep away the sand there from his feet.” 

Dinny bent down and was in the act of scooping away the 
dry sand when he uttered a yell and darted away, followed by 
Bart, who was somewhat unnerved by his weird task, and who 
did not recover himself till they reached the boat. 

“ Here, what is it?” cried Bart, recovering himself, and 
grasping Dinny by the arm, feeling indignant now at his own 
cowardice. “ Are you afraid of a dead man?” 

“No; but he isn’t dead!” panted Dinny. 

“ What?” 


“ As soon as I touched him I felt him move!” ^ 

“ Dinny, you’re a fool!” cried Bart, in an exasperated tone 
of voice. “ I wish h^ was alive, poor lad!” 

“ I tell you,” cried Dinny, catching his arm, “ he moved in 
his grave — 1 felt it plaih!” 

“ Come back!” said Bart, fiercely. 

“Divilabit!” 

“ Come back!” 

“ Divil a bit, 1 say!” 

“You coward !” cried Bart. “ Am 1 to go and do it alone?” 

“ No, no, Bart, me lad, don’t thry it. There’s something 
quare about the owld business.” 

“Yes,” said Bart, savagely. “You turned coward and 
upset me. I don’t know whether I’m most ashamed of you 
or of myself . ” 

He walked straight back toward where the soft yellow light 
of the lantern could be seen under the trees, leaving Dinny 
staring, trembling, and scratching his head. 

“ He’s gone and left me alone,” muttered Dinny. “ Sure, 
and is it a Kelly as is a coward? If it was to face a man — or 
two men — or tin men — I’d do it if I had me shtick. But a 
dead body as begins to move in its grave as soon as ye thry to 


m 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


lift it out, and says quite plain, wid a kick of its legs, ^ Lave 
me alone, ye spalpeen!^ why, it’s too much for a boy.” 

“ Are you coming, Dinny.^” cried Bart, as he approached 
the lantern. 

“ Bedad, and he’ll think me a coward if I don’t go,” said 
Dinny, panting. ‘ • Sure, and what are ye thrimbling about? 
D’ye call yourselves legs, and go shaking undher a boy like 
that? Faix, I’m ashamed of ye! Go along, do; and it isn’t 
me that’s freckened, but me legs!” 

He mastered his dread and ran swiftly after Bart, who had 
once more reached the sandy trench. 

“ I thought you’d come, Dinny,” said Bart. “ You’re not 
the lad to leave a mate in the lurch.” ■ 

“ Tly:ue for ye, me boy; but are we to tak’ him back in the 
boat?” 

“Yes, it’s the captain’s orders.” 

“ Howly Pater, but it’s dreadful work!” said Dinny. 

“ Then let’s get it done,” said Bart, stolidly; and he drew 
off the lid of the rough case. “ Come, lad, let’s lift the poor 
fellow quickly into his coffin, and act like men.” 

“But didn’t ye fale him move, Bart, lad?” whispered 
Dinny. 

“No. What foolery!” growled Bart. “ Fancy!” 

“ Divil a bit, sor! I just touched him,” whispered Dinny; 
“ and he worked his toes about, and then give quite a kick.” 

“ Bah!” ejaculated Bart. j, 

“ Bedad, but he did!” whispered Dinny. “ Wait a minute. 
The poor boy don’t like it, perhaps. If we only had Father 
M’Fadden here?” 

“ What are you going to do?” 

“ Shpaketo him,” said Dinny, trembling; “ and the blessed 
saints stand bechuckst me and harm!” he muttered, fervently. 
“ Abel, me lad — captain, don’t ye want to go?’” 

There was a dead silence. 

“ Shpake to us, me lad, and say no if you don’t; and we’ll 
respect your wishes. ” 

The silence that followed Dinny’s address to the dead was 
broken by an impatient ejaculation from Bart. 

“ Come on!” he said. “ Do you take me fora fool? Lift, 
man, or I’ll do it myself!” 

Thus adjured, Dinny went once more to the foot of the shal- 
low trench, and stooped down. 

“Now, then, together!” said Bart. “ The dead can’t hurt 
the quick.” 

Dinny thrust his hands down in the sand on either side of 


COMMODORE JUISTK. 133 

the rolled-up canvas, made as if to lift, and then, as his hands 
met, he uttered another yell and fell upon his knees. 

Bart started away as well, and stood in the dim light, trem- 
bling. 

“ There! DidnT you fale him move?^^ whispered Dinny, 
who was shaking violently. “ Captain, darling we were only 
obeying ordhers. Sure, and we wouldnT distliurb ye for all 
the world if ye diduT want to come. DonT be angry wid us 
— it was ordhers, ye know; and av coorse ye know what 
ordhers is.^^ 

“ Did — did you feel it too, Dinny said Bart, hoarsely. 

“ Did 1 fale it! Sure, and he worked his toes again, and 
then give a bigger kick than ever!^^ 

“ Dinny,' ^ cried Bart, passionately, “the poor fellow has 
been buried alive!" 

Buried aloive!" said Dinny. 

“ Yes; he has cbme to. Quick, uncover him!" 

“ Buried aloive! And it isn't a did man kicking again' 
being disthurbed in his grave!" cried Dinny, changing his tone 
and springing up. “ Howly Pater! why didn't ye say so be- 
fore? Here, have him out at wanst! — the poor boy will be 
smothered wid the sand! Quick, me boy! quick!" 

He dashed at the trench again, and Bart seized the head, 
both lifting together; and then, as the sand streamed away 
from the canvas cover in which the remains of poor Abel had 
been wrapped, they both uttered a hoarse cry of horror and 
stood holding up their ghastly burden as if in a nightmare, 
terror paralyzing them. For they felt that the long wrapper 
was alive; and from out of holes eaten in it, and dimly seen 
in the lantern's yellow light, dozens of the loathsome land- 
crabs scuffled quickly out, to keep falling with a heavy pat 
upon the sand and crawl away; while as their shells rattled 
and scratched and fheir claws clinked together, the burden 
grew rapidly lighter, the movement gradually ceased, and the 
two men stood at last, icily cold, but with the sweat streaming 
from them, holding up the old sail containing nothing but the 
skeleton of the poor fellow they sought. 

“ Oh, murther!" gasped Dinny, at last. “ Bart, lad, think 
o' that!" 

Bart uttered a sound that was more like a groan than an 
eja-culation; but neither of them moved for some moments. 

“ What'll we do now?" said Dinny at last. 

Bart did not speak, but he made a sidewise movement, which 
his companion unconsciously imitated, and together they rev- 


124 


COMMODOEE JUKK. 


erently laid the grisly remains in the dase, which Bart covered, 
and then screwed down the lid, for he had come prepared. 

‘‘ Whafc^ll the captain say?^'’ whispered Dinny, as he held 
the lantern up for Bart to see the holes made ready for the 
screws. 

Bart turned upon him fiercely. 

“ Don^t say a word of it to him,^^ he said, harshly. “ Poor 
lad, it would break his heart. 

“ Not tell him?^^ 

“ Dinny, lad, you^ll keep your tongue about this night^s 
work?” 

“Not tell the boys?” 

“ Nob tell a soul,” said Bart. “ We’re friends, and it’s our 
secret, lad. You’ll hold your tongue?” 

“ Howld my whisht? Yes,” said Dinny, “I will. Bart, 
lad, d’ye feel freckened now?” 

“Na” 

“ Nor I, nayther. It was the thought that there was some- 
thing else that freckened me. Phew, lad! it’s very hot.” 

He wiped the great drops of sweat from his brow, and then, 
as Bart ended his task: 

“ Ye were scared, though, Bart,” he said. 

“Yes, I never felt so scared in my life.” 

“ 1 shake hands, thin, lad, on that. Thin 1 needn’t fale 
ashamed o’ running away. Faix, but it’s an ugly job! Oh! 
the divils. Sure, and whin I die I won’t be buried here.” 

Dinny’s observations were cut short by Bart placing the 
lantern on the deal case; and then together the two men bore 
their eerie load down to the boat and laid it across the bows, 
the lantern being hidden once more beneath the folds of the 
great cloak with which the rough coffin was solemnly draped. 

“ You’ll be silent, Dinny?” said Bart. 

“ Niver fear, my lad,” said the Irishman. 

Then the boat was run out as far as they could wade, the 
sail hoisted, and long before dawn they reached the schooner, 
over whose side hung a signal light. 

As they reached the vessel, the captain’s face appeared in 
the glow shed by the light. The coffin was lifted on board, 
and then down into the captain’s cabin, after which the 
schooner’s wide wings were spread, and she was speeding on 
over the calm waters to the shelter, far away, that formed the 
buccaneers’ retreat and impregnable home, while Commodore 
Junk went down to his cabin, to kneel by the coffin side, and 
pray for strength to complete his vengeance against the world 
and those who had robbed him of the only one he loved. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


125 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE PEST OF THE WEST. 

The merchants of Bristol sent in a petition to his majesty 
the king, saying that the trade of the port was being ruined, 
that their ships were taken, that the supplies of sugar and 
tobacco must run short, and that, while the ladies would suffer 
as to their coffee, there would soon be no snuff ground up for 
the titillation of the noses of the kiug^s liege subjects. 

Always the same story — Commodore Junk, in command of 
a long, low, fast-sailing schooner, was here, there, and every- 
where. This sugar and coffee-laden ship was plundered and 
burned off Kingston port, so near that the glow of the fire was 
seen. That brig, full of choice mahogany logs, was taken 
near Belize. A fine Bristol bark, just out of the great port of 
South Carolina, full of the choicest tobacco leaf, was taken the 
next week. And so on, and so on. Ships from Caracas, 
from the Spanish, French, and Dutch settlements, heavily 
laden, or from England outward bound, were seized. All was 
fish that came to the pirate^s net, and if the vessels were for- 
eign, so much the worse for them, the buccaneer captain deal- 
ing out his favors with fairly balanced hand till the shores of 
the great gulf and the islands that formed the eastern barrier 
rang with the news of his deeds. 

Government heard what was said, and replied that five years 
before they had sent out a ship to capture Commodore J unk, 
that there was a severe engagement, and the captain was taken 
and hung, and afterward gibbeted off the port where his deeds 
obtained most fame. 

To which the Bristol merchants replied in a further petition 
that though it was as the government stated. Commodore 
Junk^s body had been taken down from the gibbet soon after 
it was hung up, that he had come to life again, and that his 
deeds were now ten times worse than before. 

Moreover, that somewhere or another on the western shores 
of the great Mexican Gulf, he had a retreat where he lived in 
great luxury when ashore; that maidens, wives, and widows 
had been captured and taken there to live a life of terrible cap- 
tivity; that many bloody deeds had been done after desperate 
fighting, meji being compelled to walk the plank or sent adrift 
in small boats far from land; and that, though spies had been 
sent out, no one had been able to discover the mysterious re- 
treat, even the Indians who had been bribed to go returning 


126 


COMMODOEE JUKK. 


with their heads minus their ears, or else with strange tales 
that the buccaneer v^as under the protection of the great thun- 
der gods, whose home was in the burning mountains, and that 
it was useless to try to destroy him and his crew. 

Moreover, the men of Bristol said that it was a crying shame 
that their ships and cargoes should not have adequate protec- 
tion, seeing what a deal they paid to the revenue for the goods 
they imported, and that one of his majesty’s ships ought to be 
more than a match for all the thunder gods in Central Amer- 
ica, and his majesty’s petitioners would ever pray. 

The king’s ministers of the time said that the men of Bris- 
tol were a set of old women, and that it was all nonsense about 
Commodore Junk; and for some months longer n^othing was 
done. Then came such an angry clamor and such lengthy 
accounts of the crimes the buccaneer had committed that the 
government concluded that they must do something, and gave 
their orders accordingly. 

The result was that one day Captain Humphrey Armstrong 
walked along the Mall in his big boots, which creaked loudly 
over the gravel. The gold lace on his uniform glittered in the 
sunshine; and as he wore' his cocked hat all on one side, and 
rested his left hand upon the hilt of his sword, which hung 
awkwardly across him, mixed up with the broad skirts of his 
coat, he looked as fine and gallant a specimen of humanity as 
was to be found in the king’s service. 

The ofificers of the king’s guards, horse and foot, stared at 
him, and more than one pair of bright eyes rested with satis- 
faction on the handsome, manly face, as the captain went 
along smiling with satisfaction and apparently conceit. 

It was with the former, not the latter, for the captain was 
on his way to St. James’s Square, to keep an appointment at 
Lord Loganstone’s, and before long he was in earnest converse 
with Lady Jenny Wildersey, his lordship’s youngest daughter, 
one of the most fashionable beauties of her day. 

“Yes,” said the captain, after nearly half an hour’s pre- 
liminary conversation. “It is in the course of duty, and I 
must go. ” 

“ La!” said her ladyship, with a very sweet smile. “ But 
couldn’t you send some one else?” 

“ At the call of duty!” cried the captain. “ Ho. Besides, 
you would not wish me to stay under such circumstances as 
those.” 

“La!” said her ladyship, as, after a show of resistance, she 
surrendered her lily-white hand, and suffered it to be kissed. 


COMMODORE JUITK. 127 

And how long will it take you to capture this terrible buc- 
caneer?^^ 

“ I shall be away for months/^ said the captain. 

“ La!^-’ said the lady. 

“ But I shall fight like some knight-errant of old, and fly 
back.^^ 

La!^^ said the lady. 

“With the wings of my good ship,^^ said the captain, “ and 
hasten to lay the trophies of my victory at my darling^s feet.’^ 

“You will be sure to bring him?^^ said the lady. 

“ 1 hope he will fall in the fight, said the captain. 

“ Then you are going to fight?” 

“ Yes; 1 am going out in command of a splendid ship with 
a crew of brave men, to attack and exterminate this horde of 
wasps, and I hope to do it like a man.^^ 

“But will anybody bleed?” . 

“I fear so.” 

“ La! Will you be hurt?” 

“ I hope not. But I must run the risk; and if I come back 
wounded, it will be in your service, dearest, and then 1 shall 
claim my reward.’’^ 

“ No,” said the lady, with one of her most winning looks. 
“ I douT believe you. Sailors are worse than soldiers, and you 
will fall in love with one of the lovely Spanish ladies out there, 
and forget all about poor little me."'"’ 

“Forget you!” cried the captain, passionately; “never! 
My love for you grows stronger every day; and as to beauty, 
was there ever a woman so beautiful as you?” 

“ La!” 

Captain Humphrey was about to throw himself on his knees 
as well as his big boots would allow; but just then the door 
opened, and fresh visitors were announced, and though the 
topic of the captain^s appointment to the sloop-of-war “ Queen 
Jane,” for the extermination of the West Indian buccaneers, 
formed the staple of the conversation, he had to leave at last 
with nothing warmer than a smile, but full of a great deal of 
hope. 

For love had blinded the eyes of the stout captain lately in- 
troduced to the fashionable beauty, and welcomed on account 
of the fact that he had lately succeeded to the Devonshire es- 
tates of the Armstrongs, consequent upon the death of his 
cousin James, who had been killed in a duel arising out of 
some affair of gallantry, the husband of the lady in question 
objecting to Captain James Armstrong's advances, and run- 
ning him through the body. 


1^8 


COMMODOKE JUKK. 


So, deeply in love with as pretty a bit of artificiality as ever 
dressed, or rather believing himself deeply in love. Captain 
Humphrey joined his well-found ship at Falmouth and sailed 
for the far west and the land of the torrid sun. The men of 
Bristol rubbed their hands, thought of their freights, and sat 
down to their ledgers, while they waited for the news of the 
hanging of Commodore Junk. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE PIKA TE CHASE. 

“ It’s like hunting a will-o’-the-wisp on Dartmoor,” cried 
Captain Humphrey, as he sat in one of his ship’s boats, wip- 
ing the perspiration from his sun-scorched face. “ One day 
I’m ready to swear it is all a myth, the next that there are a 
dozen Commodore Junks.” 

For ho had been out in the Mexican Gulf for six months, 
and was as far olf finishing his task as on the day when he had 
reached Kingston harbor, and listened to the tales of the buc- 
caneer’s last deeds. 

But it was no myth. Put in where he would, it was to hear 
fresh news of the pirates. Now some unfortunate captain 
would arrive in a small boat, with his crew, sufiering from 
heat, thirst, and starvation. Now the half-burned hull of a 
goodly argosy would be encountered on the open sea. At an- 
other time news would come of a derelict that had been scut- 
tled but not sunk, and seen in such and such latitude. 

Wherever he went Captain Humphrey was met with news, 
and at last with reproaches and almost insult by the authorities 
at the various ports at which he touched, for the way in which 
his task was being done. 

For there, was he with a small, swift-sailing ship, full of 
stout se 9 ,men, bravely officered, well armed, and with guns big 
enough to blow all the schooners in the west to matchwood, 
while from the captain to the smallest powder-monkey all were 
red-hot with desire to meet the commodore and give him a foe 
who knew how to fight. 

8ix months of following out clews, of going here and there 
^ where the schooner had been seen, or where it was expected, 
but never even to see the tail-end of that huge mainsail that 
caught the wind, laid the long schooner over, and sent her 
rushing through the water in a way that made all attempts at 
escape childish. In gale or calm it was always the same, and 
the masters of the many traders knew from experience that if 
the buccaneer’s schooner was in sight, they might as well 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


129 


heave to as try to fly, for their capture was certain. Conse- 
quently, it was growing fast into a rule that when the long 
schooner fired a sh6t, it was the proper thing to lower sail or 
throw the vessel up in the wind, and wait, so as not to irritate 
the enemy by trying to escape. 

Messages traveled slowly in those days, but all the same Cap- 
tain Humphrey Armstrong had received a dispatch hinting at 
a recall, and a friendly letter telling him that if he did not 
soon have something to show he would be superseded and in 
disgrace. 

He was a rich man, and at the end of three months he did 
not scruple to offer rewards for information; he doubled his 
offer to the man who would bring him within reach of the 
commodore^’s schooner; and beginning with ten guineas, he 
went on increasing, as the time went on, till he reached a hun- 
dred, and, at last, when six months had passed, it was known 
all round the coast that Captain Armstrong would give a thou- 
sand guineas to be brought alongside the schooner. 

Captain Humphrey ground his teeth when he was alone in 
his cabin, and he swore as a Devon captain could swear in those 
days; but it did no good, and in spite of all his struggles, he 
could only look upon Commodore Junk as a will-o’-the-wisp. 

“ What will Lady Jenny think?” he groaned. “ And I 
meant to do so much!” 

At last what he dreaded arrived. He sailed into port one 
day, to find his recall; and he went back on board ship, or- 
dered all sail to be made, and, ignoring the order, determined 
to find the commodore or die. 


CHAPTEE XXL 

THE BLACK SCHOONER. 

Commodore Junk’s schooner, with its enormous spars and 
sails, had been lying to off the harbor of St. Geronimo one 
afternoon, where she had taken in a good store of fresh fruit 
for her crew, while waiting the return of one of her officers 
who had been overland to Belize to pick up information that 
might be useful to the captain. 

Bart Wrigley was silent that calm, still evening for a long 
time after the captain had spoken, and then : 

“ It’s a mistake, my dear lad,” he said, angrily. ‘‘ You do 
as you like, and I’ll follow you through with it, and so will the 
men; but I say it’s a mistake.” 

“ And why?’^ asked the captain, coldly. “ Are you afraid 
to meet the ship?^’ 

5 


130 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


Nay, I don^fc know as I'^m afraid/^ said Bart; “but 
where's the good? She's twice stronger than we, and we shall 
get nothing but hard knocks." 

“ Do you think I should be so mad as to attack such a ship 
as that on equal terms?" 

“ I dunno," growled Bart. “ May be. Where's the good 
of fighting her at all?" 

“ Why do I pursue so many vessels, and take such revenge 
as I do?" said the captain. “Do you think I've forgotten 
mine and my brother's wrongs?" 

“ No; you wouldn't forget them," said Bart, slowly; “ but 
you're going to run too much risk." 

“ Not too much to gain such sweet revenge, Bart," said the 
captain, excitedly; and the dark eyes which gazed at the rough 
Devon man seemed to burn. “ Do you know who commands 
this ship that has been hunting us these six months?" 

“ Yes; a brave officer in the king's service." 

“ A brave officer!" cried the captain, contemptuously. 

“ Well, that’s what they say; and that he has sworn to die 
or take us." 

“ He — sworn!" cried the captain. “ A brave captain! Did 
you and poor Abel find him so brave when you met him that 
night on the road to Slapton Lea?" 

. “ What!" cried Bart. “ No; 'tisn't him!" 

“ That ship is commanded by Captain Armstrong," said the 
captain, hoarsely; “ by the man, Bart, who blasted my life; 
who sent my brother to his death out here, for it was through 
him poor Abel died. " 

“No! Never!" cried Bart, incredulously. 

“It's true, Bart. I have just learned that it is he by 
Dinny; who has returned from Belize. She is commanded by 
the man I once thought I loved." 

“ But you don't love him now?" 

“ Love! Bart Wrigley, can you believe in a person's nat- 
ure being changed by cruelty and wrong?" 

“ No. Not yours," growled Bart. 

“ Then you may believe it, Bart; and now the time has 
come, and 1 am going to have my revenge. Do you know 
what I am going to do?" 

“ You told me," said Bart, roughly. “ Fight." 

“ Yes; but so as to spare my men, and to spare myself, j 
Bart, I am going to teach the king's grand officer what it is to : 
trifle, and to treat those he holds beneath him as if they were j 
meant for his pleasure, and made for that alone. I am going 


COMMODORB JUBK. 131 

to destroy the ship of this grand officer, to scatter his men, 
and to take him prisoner if I can. 

“ No!^^ said Bart, hoarsely. “ Don^t do that.-’^ 

“ Why?^^ cried the captain, mockingly. Are you afraid 
that I shall be weak once more? Don't be afraid, Bart. Mary 
Dell is dead, and it is the soul of her brother who moves this 
body, r.nd he it is who will take a bitter revenge upon Captain 
Armstrong for slaying Mary Dell; for in spirit it is this he 

“You won^t kill him?’'’ whispered Bart. 

“Why not? Was Mary Dell spared? Was Abel, her 
brother, treated so tenderly that I should hold my hand?” 

“ But — ” began Bart. 

“Leave that to me,.Bart Wrigley. Help me to get him 
into my power, and then he shall learn a truth which will 
make the traitor — the coward — wince. Brave officer of his 
majesty the king! How brave you shall see. Now, do you 
understand why I mean to fight?” 

“ Yes,” said Bart, sadly; “ I see. But think twice, my 
lad.” 

“ Bart!” cried the captain, passionately, “ I’ve thought a 
hundred times; and if I were ashore, and could go there — ” 

“ I know,” said Bart, gloomily. “ You’d come out more 
and more savage and determined, as you always have been. 
Think twice, my lad. You’re rich; and you’re safe. Once 
more, why not throw it up now and let’s go home. I asks no 
more, captain. I’ve lived long enough to know all that; but 
come home now. There’s a life o’ peace yonder, and you can 
take it now; to-morrow it may be too late.” 

“ Let it be so then, Bart.” 

“ And you’ll come home^ — to Old Devon once again?” 

“No! I’m going to meet the captain face to face, Bg-rt, 
and plant my heel upon his neck.” 


CHAPTEB XXII. 

NEWS AT LAST. 

Humphrey Armstrong sat in his cabin listening to the 
whir of a beetle which had been attracted by the lights, and 
flown in through the open window, to make a bass to the treble 
hum of the mosquitoes which haunted the mouth of the river 
where the shiiD had anchored for the night. 

The day had been intensely hot, and fhe cabin seemed oven- 
*like, as its occupant sat listening to the insect hum; and then 
to the strange croakings and rustling noises which came from 


132 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


the primeval forest on either side. Now and then a deep roar 
announced the presence of some huge creature of the cat tribe 
prowling in search of prey, and this would be followed by a 
distant answering call. 

He walked to the window and looked out, to see the stars 
reflected in a blurred manner in the rushing waters of the 
river; while on either side he could see the bushes which 
fringed the muddy banks scintillating with the lamps of the 
fire-flies. Now they died out, and there would be only a faint 
twinkle here and there; then, as if something had disturbed 
or agitated the wondrous insects, they would flash out into 
soft, lambent sparks of light which played about and darted 
and circled, and then once more died out, as if to give place 
to some other creature of their kind, which flashed out so broad 
a light that the leaves of the trees around could be plainly 
seen. 

He had been away five days since the orders had come out 
for his return, in the vain hope that perhaps now he might at 
last encounter the buccaneer; but, so far, he had seen or heard 
nothing; and the pirate captain might have dropped out of 
sight, or never existed, on the evening when the captain 
searched creek after creek along the coast, till nightfall, when, 
for safety's sake, he had anchored at the mouth of the muddy 
stream. 

He was lost in thought, and was puzzling out an answer to 
the question: How was it that the buccaneer schooner con- 
trived to avoid him? when his trained ears detected the sound 
of a paddle, and he gazed keenly over the dark waters, won- 
dering whether his watch on deck had heard it, and how long 
they would be ere they challenged the approaching party in 
their boat. 

Tl» question had hardly been mentally asked when he 
heard the challenge from on deck, and the paddling ceased. 
The came a certain amount of shouting, and a conversation, 
muffled by the distance, followed, and the boat was allowed to 
approach. 

A minute later the officer of the watch came down to an- 
nounce the arrival of a couple of Indians bearing news. 

“It's the old story, sir, vamped up to get a bottle of rum; 
but I thought I'd better report it to you. Shall I kick them, 
and let them go?" 

“ No," said the captain, shortly, for he was ready now to 
snatch at straws. “ What does the man say?" 

“ There are two of them, sir; and they say the pirate vessel 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


133 


is to be found a day’s journey to the south, and that they 
have seen it lying at anchor/’ 

‘‘ Do they seem honest?” 

“ Honest as Indians, sir. I think it’s all made up.” 

I’ll come and see them.” 

The captain rose and went on deck, where he found a couple 
of soft, brown, plump-looking Indians, with large, dreamy 
eyes and languid manner, seated upon their heels - near the 
gangway, where they could give a glance from time to time at 
their canoe swinging by a frail-looking bark rope. 

The men did not stir as the captain came up, but crouched 
in their old position, gazing up at him furtively. 

Now,” he said, sharply, where is this pirate ship?” 

The men looked at him vacantly. 

“ Commodore Junk?” said Humphrey. 

El Commodore Yunk; yes. Ship there.” 

One of the Indians had caught his meaning, and pointed 
southward. 

“ Have you seen the ship?” 

The men nodded quickly, and pointed again. 

Why have you come here to tell us?” 

The Indian stared, then looked at his companion, with 
whom he rapidly exchanged a few words, ending by turning 
back, holding out his hands, and exclaiming: 

“ El Commodore Yunk. Money. Rum.” 

There’s a frankness about this fellow that makes me dis- 
posed to believe him,” said Humphrey, grimly, as he smiled 
at the officer. “ ‘ Commodore Yunk. Money. Rum.’ And 
the pointing seems to me as effective as the longest speech. 
Look here, can you understand? Show us — ” 

“ Show — show — way — El Commodore Yunk. ” 

‘‘Yes, that will do,” said the captain. “ But mind this: 
if you play us false — here, show him!” 

“Show — El Commodore Yunk,” cried the Indian, catch- 
ing the last words. “ Money — powd — rum.” 

“ You shall have plenty,” said Humphrey; “ but naake 
him understand that if he plays us false he shall be hung at 
the yard-arm.’! 

The officer of the watch, quite a young man, seemed to en- 
joy his task; for, catching up the signal halyards, he rapidly 
made a noose, threw it over the Indian’s h^ad, and drew it 
tight. Then, pointing upward, he said, slowly: 

“ If you cheat!” , 

“ Hang um?” said the Indian, sharply. 


134 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ Yes. We shall hang you if you don^’t show us Commodore 
Junk.^^ 

“ Show El Commodore Yunk/" said the Indian, com- 
posedly. 

“ I think he understands us,^^ said the officer of the watch. 

“ Very well, then,^^ cried Humphrey. “ Let's start, then, 
at once. Now, then, south?" he cried to the man. 

“ South?" said the Indian. 

“ Yes, south!" cried the captain, pointing. “ Show us the 
way. " 

“Show. El Commodore Yunk. No." 

He shook his head, and pointed around him, and then to the 
lanterns, which shed a dim light over the scene. 

“No. Dark," he said. 

“ He means it is too dark to go," said the second officer. 
“ Look here, old brown-skin. Light? sun?" 

“Light — sun!" cried the Indian, eagerly, pointing to the 
east, and then seizing the thin rope which had been twisted 
round his neck, he ran to the gangway, slid down into his 
boat, made the cord fast, and came scrambling up again to 
secure the signal-line. 

This done, he said a few words to his companion, and, going 
to the side, threw himself down under the bulwarks, and 
seemed to go to sleep at once. 

“ Yes; that's plain enough," said Humphrey. “ He means 
to wait till daylight. Keep a strict watch. We may have 
found the right man at last." 

He need have been under no anxiety as to the two informers, 
for they lay motionless till day-break, and then rose suddenly, 
looked sharply round, and, going forward, pointed to the rope 
which moored them in mid-stream. 

Half an hour later the sloop was gliding slowly out of the 
mouth of the river; the lowered sails caught the cool, moist 
morning breeze, and, in obedience to the Indian's directions 
which were embraced in the pointing of a brown hand south- 
ward, the king's ship sailed steadily along the coast a few 
miles from the shore, which, with its sandy beach alternating 
with bold headlands that ran down from regularly formed vol- 
canic-looking peaks, and creeks, and river estuaries, fringed 
with palm and mud-loving growth, showed plenty of spots 
where a vessel might find a hiding-place, and which it would 
have taken a fieet of boats to adequately explore. 

The Indian's conduct increased the confidence of Hum- 
phrey; and as the day wore on the officers and crew, who had 
been for months chasing myths, began to look forward hope- 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


135 


fully to an encounter with the pirates, and to believe that the 
preparations for action might not this time prove to have been 
in vain. 

It was within two hours of sundown, as the men were at 
their drowsiest moment — many being fast asleep — when, as 
they were rounding a rocky point feathered with glorious 
palms, beyond which the country ran up toward the mount- 
ains in a glorious chaos of piled-up rock, deep ravine, and fire- 
scathed chine, the principal Indian suddenly seized the cap- 
tain^s arm and pointed straight before him to where, a couple 
of miles away, and looking as if she had just glided out of 
some hidden channel running into the land, there was a long, 
low, black-hulled schooner, spreading an enormous amount of 
canvas for so small a vessel; and as he saw the rake of the 
masts and the disproportioned size of her spars, Humphrey 
Armstrong felt a thrill of exultation run through him even as 
his whole crew was now galvanzied into life, and he mentally 
repeated the words of the Indian: 

“ El Commodore Yunk.'^'’ 

Yes; there could be nO doubt of it. The shape and size of 
the vessel answered the description exactly, and no trader or 
pleasure vessel, foreign or British, would sail with so danger- 
ously an overweightiug rig as that. 

At last, then!^"' cried Humphrey, excitedly, as he stood 
gazing at the long, suspicious-looking craft; and his heart 
beat heavily, his face flushed, and the hands which held his 
glass trembled with eagerness. 

The men made way to right and left as their captain strode 
aft and exclaimed: 

“Bring the poor fellows here. They shall have their re- 
ward and go.^^ 

Was it treachery, or fear of the enemy? 

Humphrey asked himself this question as a shout came from 
the steersman, who, like the rest, had been gazing at the 
schooner, but who was the first to see and draw attention to a 
canoe being paddled rapidJy for the shore. 

No one had been attending to the two Indians, who had 
waited until the attention of all was bent upon the buccaneer, 
and then silently slipped over the side, glided down the rope, 
and cast off, to paddle shoreward. 

There was good discipline on board ship even then, and at 
the call to quarters every man fell into place. The long gun 
was run in, loaded, run out, and directly after there was a puff 
of smoke, a loud report which went echoing among the mount- 


136 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


ains and through the densely wooded ravines, as a round shot 
skipped over the water right in front of the schooner. 

“ Hurrah shouted the men, as they saw the long vessel 
alter her course a little. 

“She surrenders,^ ^ said Humphrey to himself; and in the 
brief moments that followed he saw himself returning to Eng- 
land ill triumph, his task done, and beautiful, fashionable 
Lady Jenny Wildersey welcoming him with open arms. 

It was a puff of fancy, dissipated like the puff of smoke 
which came from the schooner’s bows; while, in company with 
the report that rumbled heavily away, came a round shot 
skipping over the calm surface of the sea, not forward like the 
summons to heave to of the king’s ship, but straight at her 
hull, and so well aimed that it tore through the starboard bul- 
wark amidships and passed just in front of the mainmast, 
which it almost grazed. 

“ The insolent!” exclaimed Humphrey, turning purple 
with rage. “ How dare he!” 

As he spoke he raised his spy -glass to his eye, for something 
could be seen fluttering up the side of the great mainsail, and 
directly after a large black flag was wafted out by the breeze 
in defiance of a ship-of-war double the schooner’s size, and 
heavily armed, as well as manned by a picked and disciplined 
crew. 

“ Very good, commodore!” cried Humphrey, with a smile. 
“You can’t escape us now. Gentlemen, the ball has opened. 
Down with her spars, my lads. Never mind her hull; we 
want that to take back to Falmouth, from whence she shall 
sail next time with a different rig.” 

The men cheered and the firing commenced, when, to the 
annoyance of the captain, the wind dropped entirely, a dead 
calm ensued; night was coming on rapidly, as it descends in 
the tropic lands, and he had either to try and silence the 
schooner at long range, or man the boats and take her by 
boarding, a plan from which he shrunk, knowing, as he did, 
that it could only be successful at a terrible cost of life, and 
this he dreaded for the sake of his men. 

The sloop crept a little nearer in one of the puffs of wind 
that came from time to time, and the firing went on, Hum- 
phrey and his officers being astounded at the ability with which 
the schooner’s guns were served and the accuracy of their aim. 

“ No wonder that they’ve carried all before them among 
the merchantmen,” muttered Humphrey, as a shot came 
crashing into them, and three men were carried below, dis- 
abled by splinters. 


COSIMODORE JUNK. 


137 


As he spoke he looked anxiously round, to make sure that 
the schooner would not be able to pass them in the approach- 
ing darkness, and then, feeling more and more that men who 
could serve their guns so well would be terrible adversaries in 
a case of boarding, and determined to spare his men till the 
schooner was disabled, he kept up the artiller3^ duel till the 
ouly guide for laying their guns was the flash of the enemy^s 
pieces when some shot was fired. 

By this time the fire of the buccaneers had proved so effective 
that the sloop^s bulwarks were shattered and her decks were 
slippery with blood, while her captain was fuming with rage 
at the unfortunate aim of his men; for, though the schooner 
had evidently been hit again and again, she seemed to have 
escaped the vital injury that a shot would have produced in 
one of her spars. 

All at once, just as the darkness had become complete, the 
firing of the schooner ceased; and to have continued that on 
board of the sloop would have been wasting shot. 

‘‘ Man the launch and jolly-boat said the captain, sharp- 
ly, and their crews waited with intense excitement the orders 
to go and board the schooner, a faint groan of disappointment 
arising as the men heard the instructions given to the two 
lieutenants to patrol on either side of the sloop, and be ready 
to attack and board ouly if the buccaneer should attempt to 
steal off in the darkness and escape. 

The night wore on, with every one on the qui vim. Two 
more boats were ready waiting to push off and help in the at- 
tack on whichever side the schooner should attempt to escape; 
while, in the event of an attack, the other patroliugi boat was 
to come back to the sloop. 

But hour after hour passed and no rushing of water was 
heard, no dip of long sweep, or creak of the great oar in the 
rowlock was heard; neither was a light seen; and the silence 
observed by the schooner was so profound that Humphrey, as 
he paced the deck, felt certain at last that she must have 
escaped; and now that it was too late, he bitterly repented not 
attempting to capture the dangerous foe by a bold attack. 

“ She^s gone,"’' he groaned, “ and T’ve lost my chance. 

He paced the deck in bitter disappointment, as he felt that 
he had let a prize slip through his fingers; and, as he waited, 
the night glided slowly by, till, slowly and tardily, the first 
signs of day appeared, and with a cry of joy Humphrey Arm- 
strong ordered the signal of recall to be run up, for there, just 
as she had been last seen when night fell, lay the long, dark 
schooner, but without a roan visible on bpard, 


138 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


In a few minutes the two boats were alongside, and Hum- 
phrey gazed longingly at the prize he felt ready to give half his 
me to reach. 

What should he do? Attempt to board her now that his 
four boats lay armed and ready for the ffay? 

The temptation was too great, and the order was given; the 
four boats to attack at once, the men receiving the command 
with a tremendous cheer, aiid their oars took the water at 
once; while, compelled by his position to remain on board, 
the captain feverishly watched the progress of his boats in the 
growing light, and frowned and stamped the deck in his anger 
as he saw the crews were exhausting themselves in a race to 
see which should first reach the silent, forbidding-looking 
schooner. 

He shouted to them to keep together, but they were beyond 
the reach of his voice, and matters seemed hopeless from the 
way in which they straggled, when a combined attack was re- 
quisite for success. 

Then all at once the launch remained steady, and the 
smaller boats went off to right and left. Another minute and 
all were advancing together, so as to board in four different 
parts of the ship at once. 

Humphrey Armstrong's eyes flashed, Kis lips parted, and 
his breast heaved as he watched his men dash on with a faintly 
heard cheer; but there was no response, not a moving figure 
could be seen on board the schooner, and it was plain that she 
had been deserted during the night. 

“ Curse him for an eel!^^ cried the captain, fiercely, as he 
felt that hi was about to capture a vessel and leave her cun- 
ning commander to man another, and carry on his marauding 
as of old; but he had hardly uttered his angry denunciation 
when his four boats raced up to the schooner, and in a mo- 
ment she seemed alive with men. 

Almost beforp the English captain could realize the fact, 
great pieces of iron, probably the schooner’s ballast, were 
thrown over into the boats, two of which were crushed through 
like so much paper, and the men, as they sunk left struggling 
in the water. 

All that could be done was to rescue the drowning men; 
and as the two remaining boats were being overladen, and then 
made a desperate attack so as not to go back in disgrace, a 
furious fire of small-arms was poured from every port-hole and 
from the schooner’s deck, till, unable to penetrate the stout 
boarding-netting triced up all around the vessel, cut at, shot 
and thrasfc hack into their boats with boarding^pikes^ the 


COMMODORE JUNK. 139 

sloop’s two boats fell off, and began to slowly retrace their 
course. 

The moment the way was clear Humphrey, who was almost 
beside himself with disappointment, began pounding away at 
the buccaneer with his heavy guns; but instead of exciting a 
response he found that sails were being unfurled, and that, in- 
stead of the schooner being shut in, the bottom of the bay 
formed a kind of strait, and she was not in a cul de sac, 

“She’ll escape us after all!” groaned Humphrey, as he 
ordered sail to be made, and the sloop began to forge ahead, 
firing rapidly the while, as the schooner began to leave her be- 
hind. 

She was sailing right in, and before the sloop could follow 
there were the two boats to be picked up. 

This was done, the removal of the wounded being deferred 
till the buccaneer was captured, and all the time a furious fire 
was kept up without efect, for the schooner seemed to sail 
right inland, and disappeared round a headland, the last they 
saw of the heavily rigged vessel being when she careened over 
at right angles to the sloop and her shot-torn sails passed slow- 
ly behind the rocky bluff. 

“ Only into shelter!” cried Humphrey Armstrong, excitedly; 
and giving rapid orders, fresh sail was made, and men plac^ 
in the chains with leads to keep up communications as to the 
soundings, but always to announce deep water, the land seem- 
ing to rise up sheer from an enormous depth in the channel- 
like gulf they entered. 

“She’s gone right through, sir, and will get away on the 
other side. ” 

The sloop sailed on, with the water deep as ever, and before 
long she rounded the head, to find the narrow channel had 
opened out into a beautiful lake-like bay with the dense 
primeval forest running right down to its shores. 

But the greatest beauty of the scene to Humphrey Arm- 
strong was the sight of the schooner lying right across his 
course a quarter of a mile away, and ready to concentrate her 
fire and rake the sloop from stem to stern. 

“ Curse him! no wonder he has had so long a career!” said 
Humphrey, stamping with rage as he watched the execution 
of his orders, and a well-directed fire was once more made to 
answer that of the buccaneer. “ With such a ship, crew, and 
place of retreat, he might have gone on for years. ” 

The firing grew hotter than ever, and the schooner became 
enveloped in a cloud of smoke which elicited a burst of cheers 
from the sloop. 


140 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


“ She^s afire! she^s afire!^’ roared the men. 

Humphrey's triumph was now at hand. The scourge of 
the western seas was at his mercy, and shrinking from at- 
tempting to board so desperate an adversary for the sake of his 
crew, he gave orders to lay the sloop right alongside of the 
schooner, where he could cast grappling-irons, and then pour 
his fire down upon her deck. 

The orders were rapidly executed, and the sloop bore down 
right for the smoke-enveloped schooner with little fear of be- 
ing raked now, for the pirates had ceased firing, and could be 
dimly seen through the reek hurrying to and fro. 

“ Shall we give her one more salvo, sir?^'’ asked the first 
officer, coming up to where Humphrey stood, trying to pierce 
the smoke with his glass. 

‘‘ No, poor wretches! they’re getting fire enough. I hope 
she will not blow up, for I’d give anything to take her home 
unhurt. ” 

There was a perfect rush of flame and smoke now from the 
schooner, and once more Humphrey’s men cheered and shook 
hands together, even the wounded in the excitement of their 
triumph taking up the cry, when, just in the height of the ex- 
citement, and when the sloop was within a hundred yards of 
the enemy, the men in the chains among the rest gazing hard 
at the rising smoke, the war vessel careened over in answer to 
her helm in the evolution which was to lay her side by side 
with the burning schooner, and then there was a tremendous 
jerk which threw nearly every one off his feet. 

Then, shivering from head to heel, the sloop slowly surged 
back as if to gather force like a wave, and in obedience to the 
pressure upon her sails, struck again, literally leaping this 
time upon the keen-edged barrier of rocks under whose invisi- 
ble shelter the schooner lay; and then, as a yell of horror rose 
from the men, the unfortunate ship remained fixed, her masts, 
sail-laden, went over the side with a hideous crashing noise, 
and all was confusion, ruin, and despair. 

The moments required to turn a stately, sail-crowded ship 
into a state of chaos are very few, and to Humphrey Arm- 
strong’s agon)^ as, well aided oy his officers, he was trying to 
do something to ameliorate their position, he saw how 
thoroughly he had been led into a cunningly designed trap. 
The schooner had been artfully maneuvered to place her be- 
hind the dangerous rocks, and, what was more, a glance at her 
novv showed her sailing away from a couple of boats moored 
beyond her, and in each of which were barrels of burning pitch 
sending up volumes of blackened smoke. 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 141 

“ A trap! a trap!^^ he cried, grinding his teeth. “ Let her 
be, my lads,’"’ he roared. “ Prepare for boarders 

The men sprung to their pikes and swords, while a couple 
of guns were freed from the wreck of cordage and sail which 
the shock had brought down. 

These guns had hardly been trained to bear upon the 
schooner from the deck of the helpless sloop when a deadly fire 
was opened by the former — a fire of so furious a character 
that the confusion was increased, and in spite of the efforts of 
captain and officers, the men shrunk from working at the 
guns. 

What followed was one terrible scene of despairing men striv- 
ing for their lives against a foe of overpowering strength. 
The fierce fire of the . schooner, as she came nearer and 
nearer, was feebly responded to, and in a short time the deck 
streamed with blood, as the shot came crashing through the 
bulwarks, sending showers of splinters to do deadly work with 
the hail of grape. There was no thought of capture now; no 
need of bidding the meti attack; following the example of their 
officers, and one and all doggedly determined to sell their lives 
dearly, the men dragged gun after gun round as those they 
worked were disabled, and sent a shot in reply as often as they 
could. 

With uniform torn and bedabbled with blood, face black- 
ened with powder, and the red light of battle in his eyes, 
Humphrey Armstrong saw plainly enough that his case was 
hopeless, and that, with all her pomp of war and pride of dis- 
cipline and strength, his sloop was prostrate before the buc- 
caneer^’s snaky craft, and in his agony of spirit and rage he 
determined to wait till the pirates boarded, as he could see 
they would before long, and then blow up the magazine and 
send them to eternity in their triumph over the British ship. 

But it was to destroy his men as well, and he felt that this 
should be the pirates^ work when all was over. 

“ JSTo,^^ he muttered between his teeth, “it would be a 
coward^s act, and they shall die like mqn. 

The schooner’s sides were vomiting smoke and flame, and 
she was close alongside now. She had been so maneuvered as 
to sail right round the end of the reef, whose position seemed 
to be exactly known, so that from firing upon the sloop’s 
bows, and raking from stem to stern, the firing had been con- 
tinued as she passed along the larboard side round to the poop, 
which had been raked in turn, and here it was evident that the 
final attack was to be made. 

It was not long in coming. Hardly had Humphrey seen 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


U2 

the enemy^s intentions and gathered his men together, than 
the schooner’s side ground up against the shattered stern of 
the sloop. Heavy grappling-irons were thrown on board, 
and with a furious yelling a horde of blackened, savage-look- 
ing men poured on to the bloody splinter-strewn deck, and 
coming comparatively fresh upon the sloop’s exhausted crew, 
bore down all opposition. Men were driven below, cut down, 
stunned, and driven to ask for quarter; and so furious was the 
onslaught that the sloop’s crew were divided into two half -help- 
less bodies, one of which threw down their arms, while the 
other, which included the captain and officers, backed slowly 
toward the bows, halting at every spot where they could make 
a stand, but forced to yield foot by foot, till their fate, it was 
plain to all, was to surrender or be driven through the shat- 
tered bulwarks into the sea. 

It was a matter of minutes. The fight was desperate, but 
useless; Humphrey Armstrong and those around him seeming 
determined to sell their lives dearly, for no quarter was asked. 
They had given way step by step till there was nothing behind 
them but the shattered bulwarks, and then the sea, when, 
headed by their leader, the buccaneers made a desperate rush; 
there was the clashing of sword and pike; and, as sailor and 
officer fell, or were disarmed, Humphrey stepped in a . half- 
congealed pool of blood, slipped, and went heavily backward, 
the buccaneer’s lieutenant leaping forward to brain him with 
a heavy ax. 

There was a rush, a fierce shout. Black Mazzard was thrust 
aside, and the commodore sprung past him to plant his foot , 
upon the fallen officer’s chest, while, the fight being over, the 
rest held their hands — the conquerors and conquered — to see 
what would be the captain’s fate. 

“ Now, Captain Armstrong,” cried the buccaneer leader, ' 
beg for your wretched life, you cowardly dog!” 

“ Coward!” roared Humphrey, raising himself slightly on ; 
one hand, as with the other he swept the blood from his en- ; 
sanguined face. “You cursed hound! you lie!” i 

The buccaneer shrunk back as if from some blow; his foot 
was withdrawn from the wounded officer’s chest, he lowered i 
the point of his sword, and stood gazing at his prostrate enemy : 
wildly. i 

“The captain shirks the job, lads,” cried a coarse voice, i 
“ Here, let me come.” j 

It was Black Mazzard who spoke, and, drunken with rum J 
and the spirit of the furious fight, he pressed forward, ax in | 
hand. . I 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


US 


Humphrey raised himself a little higher, with his white 
teeth bared in fierce defiance as he prepared to meet the death- 
blow he saw about to fall. 

But at that moment the buccaneer caught his lieutenant^s 
uplifted arm. 

“ Enough he cried, fiercely; “ no more blood. He is no 
coward. Bart — Dinny, take this gentleman ashore.^’ 

Humphrey Armstrong did not hear the words, for his de- 
fiant act exhausted his failing strength, and he fell back, insen- 
sible to all that happened for many hours to come. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

CAPTAIN HUMPHREY COMES TO. 

Captain Humphrey lay upon his back staring at his con- 
science. He was weak from loss of blood, weaker from fever; 
and he would have fared better if he had had proper medical 
treatment instead of the rough but kindly doctoring and 
nursing of Bart the surgeon, and Dinny the hospital nurse. 

This was after three weeks^ doubtful journey, wherein Dinny 
said “ the obstinate divil had tried all he knew to die."*^ And 
it was so ungrateful, Dinny said, after the captain had saved 
his life, and that of all the prisoners who had not also been 
obstinate and died. 

Humphrey's conscience was a great stone god full twelve 
feet high — an object that looked like a mummy-ca$e set on 
end, as far as shape was concerned, but carved all over in the 
most wonderful way, the grotesque and weird bas-reliefs almost 
destroying the face, hands, and feet of the figure, flowing over 
them as they were, so that at first sight he looked upon a great 
mass of sculpture, out of which by degrees the features ap- 
peared. 

The old artist who designed the idol had strange ideas of 
decorative effect. He had cut in the hard stone a fine, con- 
templative face; but over it he had placed a gigantic head- 
dress, whereon were stony plumes of feathers, wreaths, and 
strange symbols, while pendent in every possible direction 
about the body were writhing creatures and suakes, with vari- 
ations of the human form, engaged in strange struggles, and 
among them human heads turned into bosses or decorations of 
the giant robe. 

Humphrey Armstrong came partly to himself to see the 
cold, implacable face of this idol staring down at him from the 
gloom, ten feet from where he lay; and it seemed to him, by 
Sow degrees, that this was his conscience sternly and silently 


144 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


upbraiding him for the loss of his ship and the lives of his 
men, destroyed by his want of skill as a commander. 

Day after day, through his semi-delirium, did that great 
idol torture him, and seem, with its reproachful eyes, to burn 
into his brain. 

Days passed, and by degrees he began to be aware that he 
was lying on a bed of comfortable rugs and skins, stretched 
in a curious room, whose walls were covered with hieroglyphics 
— thick, clumsy-looking hieroglyphics — not like those of Egypt, 
but carved with a skill peculiar to another race. Here and 
there were medallions of heads of gods or rulers of the land. 
Flowers of a peculiar convention! type formed part of the 
decorations or surrounded panels, in which were panthers, alli- 
gators, or human figures. In the center of the wall to his 
right was a recess in which, clearly cut and hardly touched by 
time, was the figure of a king seated upon a leopard -sup- 
ported throne — seated cross-legged, as in the East, and in a 
wondrous costume — while another figure presented to him 
what seemed to be the spoil of a number of dead and living 
figures who were trampled under foot. 

The room was evidently a palace chamber, or a portion of 
a temple of great antiquity; and by degrees Humphrey realized 
that the ceiling was not arched or supported by beams, but by 
the great stones of which it was composed being piled one 
above the other, like a flight of steps, from the waDs on either 
side till they met in the middle. 

The floor was of stone, and there was a large opening on 
his left, facing the recess where the carving of the king orna- 
mented the wall; and this opening, once a window, looked out 
upon the forest, whose dull, green, subdued twilight stole into 
the place. 

It was a weird lookout — upon tree-trunks strangled by ser- 
pent-like creepers, which seemed to be contending with them 
lor the life-giving light which filtered down from above 
through clouds of verdure; while other trees and other ser- 
pent-like creepers seemed in friendly co-operation to have 
joined hands against the walls of the building, which they were 
striving to destroy. Huge roots were thrust between the joints 
of stones and shifted them out of place. One liana waved a 
trailing stem through the window opening as if in triumph, 
and to call attention to the feat of another creeper which had 
twisted itself completely round a great block, lifted it from one 
side, and held it suspended like a vegetable feat of strength. 

For nature was asserting herself on every hand, the growth 

pf the forest penetrating the chamber like m invading army 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


145 


of leaves and sterns, and mingling with the works of man to 
their steady overthrow; while, facing it all, stern, implacable, 
and calmly watching the progress of destruction going on, 
stood the stone idol, the work of a race passed “^from the face 
of the earth, and waiting, as it had waited for hundreds of 
years, till the potent forest growth should lay it low. 

For a time it was all a nightmare-like confusion to Hum- 
phrey; but with returning strength came order in his intel- 
lect, and he questioned Bart, who brought him food, and from 
time to time added carpets and various little luxuries of cabin 
furniture, which seerhed strangely incongruous in that place. 

“ Who told you to bring those things here.^^^ he said one 
day. 

‘ ^ Commodore J unk. ^ ^ 

Why? Am I a prisoner 

“Yes."’^ ' 

‘‘Ami to be shot?’’ 

“ Don’t know.” 

“ Where am I?” 

“ Here.” 

“ But what place is this?” 

“ Don’t know.” 

“But—” 

“ Want any more wine or fruit?” 

“ Ho; I want my liberty.” 

“ Belongs to the captain.” 

“ Tell the captain I wish to see him.” 

Bart said no more, but took his departure. 

The prisoner was more fortunate with Dinny, who could be 
communicative. 

“That’s it, captain, darlin’,” he said one day. “Don’t 
ye fale like a little boy again, and that I’m your mother wash- 
ing your poor face?” 

“ Don’t fool, my good fellow, but talk to me.” 

“ Talk to you, is it?” 

“Yes; you can talk to me.” 

“ Talk to ye — can I talk to ye! Hark at him, mate!” he 
cried, appealing to the great idol. “ Why, I’m a divil at it.” 

“ Well, then, tell me how I came here.” 

“ Faix, didn’t I carry ye on my back?” 

“ Yes, but after the fight?” 

“Afther the f eight— oh! is it afther the f eight ye mane? 
Sure, and it was the shkipper’s ordhers, and I carried ye here, 
and Bart-«you know the toother one-— he brought in the bed 
ftfid t'te find things to m^ke a bit damp^ 


146 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


and the threes have a bad habit of putting in their noses like 
the pigs at home; but it^s an illigant bedroom for a gintleman 
afther all!’^ 

It was the captain^s orders, you say?'^ 

Sure, an^ it was.^^ 

‘‘ And where are we?’^ 

“ Why, here we are!^^ 

‘‘ Yes, yes; but what place is this?’’ 

“ Sure, an’ it’s the shkipper’s palace.” 

“ Commodore Junk’s?” 

‘‘Yis.” 

“ And what place is it — where are we?” 

Faix, and they say that sick payple is hard to deal with. 
It’s what I’m telling you sure. It’s the shkipper’s palace, and 
here it is. ” 

My good fellow, you told me all that; but I want to know 
whereabouts it is.” 

“ Oh-h! Whereabouts it is, you mane?” 

‘‘ Yes, yes.” 

Why, right away in the woods.” 

‘‘ Far from the shore?” 

“ Ah, would ye!” cried Dinny, with a grin full of cunning. 

Ye’d be getting all the information out of me, and then as 
soon as ye get well be running away.” 

“ Yes,” said Humphrey, “ if I can.” 

“Well, that’s honest,” cried Dinny. “And it’s meself 
would do it if I got a chance.” 

“ No,” said Humphrey, sadly; “ I could not do that and 
leave my men. ” 

“ Faix, and they’d leave ye if they got a chance, sor.” 

“ How are they all?” 

“ Oh, they’re getting right enough,” said Dinny. “ Ye’ve 
been the worst of ’em aU yerself, and if ye don’t make haste 
ye’ll be last.” 

“ But tell me, my lad, why am I kept in prison?” 

“ Tell ye why you’re kept in prison?” & 

“Yes.’^ 

“ An’ ye want to know! Well, divil a wan of us can tell, 
unless it’s the shkipper’s took a fancy to ye bekase ye’re such 
a divil to foight, and he wants ye to jyne the rigiment.” 

Begiment! W^hy, you’ve been a soldier!” 

And is it me a sojer? Why, ye’ll be wanting to make out 
next that 1 was a desarther when I was only a prishner of 
war!’' 

Humphrey sighed. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


147 


“ Sure, and ye^re wanting something, sor. What^ll 1 get 
ye? The shkipper said ye were to have i very thing you wanted. ” 
Then give me my liberty, my man, and let me go back to 
England — and disgrace. 

“ Sure, and I wouldnT go back to England to get that, sor. 
I^d sooner shtop here. The shkipper 's always telling Bart to 
look afther ye well.^^ 

‘‘ Why?^'’ said Humphrey, sharply. 

“Why?-’^ said Dinny, scratching his head; “perhaps he 
wants to get ye in good condition before ye're hung. " 

“ Hung?" 

“ Yis, sor. That's what Black Mazzard says." 

“ Is that the man who tried to cut me down with a board- 
ing-ax?" 

“ That's the gintleman, sor; and now let me put ye tidy, 
and lay yer bed shtraight. Sure, and ye've got an illigant 
cabin here, as is good enough for a juke. Look at the orni- 
ments on the walls." 

“ Are there any more places like this?" 

“ Anny more! Sure, the wood's full of 'em." 

“ But about here?" 

“ About here? Oh, this is only a little place. Sure, we all 
live here always when we ar'n't aboard the schooner." 

“Ah, yes! The schooner. She was quite destroyed, was 
she not?" 

“ Divil a bit, sor. Your boys didn't shoot shtraight enough. 
The ship ye came in was, afther we'd got all we wanted out 
of her. She was burned to the wather's edge, and then she 
sunk off the reef." 

, sor, for she was a very bwld boat, and 
not safe for a journey home. Mak' yer mind aisy, and mak' 
this yer home. There's plinty of room for ye, and — whisht! 
here's the captain coming. What'll he be doing here?" 

“ The captain!" cried Humphrey. “ Then that man took 
my message." 

“ What message, sor?" 

At that moment the steps which had been heard coming as 
it were down some long stone corridor halted at the door-way 
of the prisoner's chamber, some one drew aside a heavy rug, 
and the buccaneer, wearing a broad* leafed hat which shaded 
his face, entered the place. 

“ You can go, Dinny." 

“ Yis, sor, I'm going," said Dinny, obsequiously, and, 
after a glance at the prisoner, he hurriedly obeyed. 


Humphrey groaned. 
“ Ye needn't do that 


148 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


There was only a gloomy greenish twilight in the old cham- 
ber, such light as there was striking in through the forest- 
shaded window, and with his back to this, and retaining his 
hat, the captain seated himself upon a rug-covered chest. 

“You sent for me,^^ he said, in a deep, abrupt voice. 

Humphrey looked at him intently, the dark eyes meeting 
his, and the thick black brows contracted as the gaze was pro- 
longed. 

“You sent for me,^^ he repeated, abruptly; “ what more do 
you want?’^ 

“ I will tell you after awhile, said Humphrey; “ but first 
of all let me thank you for the kind treatment 1 have received 
at your hands. 

“ You need not thank me,^^ was the short reply. “ Better 
treatment than you would have given me. 

“ Well, yes,^^ said Humphrey. “ I am afraid it is.^^ 

“ Your cousin would have hung me.^^ 

“ My cousin! What do you know of my cousin 

“ England is little. Every Englishman of mark is known. 

Humphrey looked at him curiously, and for the moment it 
seemed to him that he had heard that voice before, but his 
memory did not help him. 

“ My cousin would have done his duty,^^ he said, gravely. 

“ His duty!^^ cried the captain, bitterly. “ Your country 
has lost a treasure in the death of that man, sir.-’’ 

“ Good heavens, man! What do you know — ” 

“ Enough, sir. Let Captain James Armstrong rest. The 
name is well represented now by a gentleman, and it is to that 
fact that Captain Humphrey owes his life.” 

The latter stared at the speaker wonderingly. 

“ Well, sir, why have you sent for me?” 

“ To thank you. Commodore Junk, and to ask you a ques- 
tion or two.” 

“ Go on, sir. Perhaps I shall not answer you.” 

“I will risk it,” said Humphrey, watching him narrowly. 
“You spared my life. Why?” 

“I told you.” 

“ Then you will give me my liberty?” 

“ What for? — to go away and return with another and bet- 
ter-manned ship to take us and serve the captain of the 
schooner as I have served you?’^ 

“No. I wish to return home.” 

“ What for?” 

“ Surely you can not expect me to wish to stay here?” 

“ Why do you wish to go home to meet disgrace?” 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


149 


Humplirey started at having his own words repeated. 

“ To be tried by court-martial for the loss of your ship! 
Stay where you are, sir, and grow strong and well.^^ 

“ If I stay here, sir, when I have full liberty to go, shall I 
not be playing the part of the coward you called me when I 
was beaten down?^^ 

‘‘ You will not have full liberty to go. Captain Armstrong,^^ 
said his captor, quietly. ‘‘ You forget that you are a prisoner. 

“ You do not intend to kill me and my men?^^ 

“ We are not butchers, sir,^^ was the cold reply. 

‘‘ Then what is your object in detaining us. Is it ransom 

‘‘ Possibly. 

“ Name the sum, then, sir, and if it is in my power it shall 
be paid.-’' 

“ It is too soon to talk of ransom. Captain Armstrong, 
said his visitor, ‘‘ you are weak and ill yet. Be patient, and 
grow well and strong. Some day I will talk over this matter 
with you again. But let me, before I go, warn you to be care- 
ful not to attempt to escape, or to encourage either of your 
men to make the attempt. Even I could not save you then, 
for the first man you met would shoot you down. Besides 
that risk, escape is impossible by land; and we shall take care 
that you do not get away by sea. Now, sir, have I listened to 
all you have to say?^' 

“One word, sir. I am growing stronger every day. Will 
you grant me some freedom 

“ Captain Armstrong is a gentleman,^' said his visitor; “ if 
he will give his word that he will not attempt to escape, he 
shall be free to go anywhere within the bounds of our little 
settlement."^^ 

Humphrey sat thinking, with his brow knit and his teeth 
compressed. 

“ No,^^ he said; “ that would be debarring myself from 
escaping. 

“ You could not escape. 

“ I should like to try,^^ said Humphrey, smiling. 

“ It would be utter madness, sir. Give me your word of 
honor that. you will not attempt to leave this old palace, and 
you shall come and go as you please. 

“No, sir; I will remain a prisoner with the chances open.^^ 

“ As you will,^^ said the bupcaneer, coldly; and he rose and 
left the chamber, looking thoughtful and absent, while Hum- 
phrey lay back on his couch, gazing hard at the great stone 
idol, as if he expected to gain information from its stern, mys- 
terious countenance. 


150 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ Where have I seen him before?^^ he said, thoughtfully; 
and after gazing at the cavern effigy for some time he closed 
his eyes and tried to think, but their last meeting on the deck 
of the sloop was all that would suggest itself, and he turned 
wearily upon his side. 

He seemed to have heard of our family, and his manner 
was strange; but I can^’t think now,^^ he said, I am hot and 
weak, and this place seems to stifle me.’’^ 

Almost as he spoke he dropped asleep — the slumber of weak- 
ness and exhaustion — to be plunged in a heavy stupor for 
hours, perfectly unconscious of the fact that from time to time 
the great curtain was drawn aside and a big head thrust into 
the ffim chamber, the owner gazing frowningly at the helpless 
prisoner, and then entering on tiptoe, to cross to the window 
and cautiously look out before returning to the couch, with 
the frown deepening as the man thought of how narrow the 
st^ was which led from life to death. 

He had advanced close to the couch with a savage gleam of 
hatred in his eyes when Humphrey Armstrong moved uneasily, 
tossed his hands apart, and then, as if warned instinctively of 
danger, he opened his eyes, sprung up, and seized a piece of 
stone close by his side, the only weapon within grasp. 

“ Well,^^ said Bart, without stirring, and with a grim look 
of contempt, “ heave it. I don^t mind.^^ 

‘‘Oh, it^s you!^^ said the prisoner, setting down the stone 
and letting himself sink back. “ I was dreaming, 1 suppose, 
and thought there was danger. 

He laid his feverish cheek upon his hand, and seemed to fall 
asleep at once, his eyes closing and his breath coming easily. 

“Trusts me,^^ muttered Bart. “Poor lad! it arVt his 
fault. Man canT kill one as trusts him like that. I shall 
have to fight for him, I suppose. Always my way — always 
my way.^^ 

He seated himself at the foot of the couch with his features 
distorted as if by pain, and for hour after hour watched the 
sleeper, telling himself that he could not do him harm, though 
all the time a jealous hatred approaching fury was burning in 
his breast. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE PRISON LIFE. 

“ XoT dying, Bart?^'’ 

“ No, not exactly dying,""' said that worthy in a low growl; 
“ but s'pose you. shoots at and wings a gull, picks it up, and 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


151 


takes it, and puts it in a cage; the wound heals up, and the 
bird seems sound; but after a time it don'^t peck, and don't 
preen its plumes, and if it don't beat itself again' the bars o' 
the cage, it sits and looks at the sea." 

What do you mean?" 

What I says, captain; and, after a time, if you don't let 
it go, that gull dies." 

“ Then you mean that Captain Armstrong is pining away?" 

That's it." 

“ Has he any suspicion of who we are?" 

“ Not a bit." 

“ And you think he is suffering for want of change?" 

“ Course I do. Any one would — shut up in that dark 
place." 

“ Has he complained?" 

“Not he. Too brave a lad. Why not give him and his 
lads a boat, and let them go?" 

“ To come back with a strong force and destroy us.'^ 

“Ah, I never thought of that! Make him swear he 
wouldn't. He'd keep his word." 

“ But his men would not, Bart. No; he will have to stay." 

“ Let him loose, then, to run about the place. He can't 
get away." 

“I am afraid." 

“ What of?" 

“ Some trouble arising. Mazzard does not like nim. " 

“Ah! I never thought o' that neither," returned Bart, 
gloomily. “ Black Mazzard's always grumbling about his be- 
ing kept. " 

The buccaneer took a turn or two up and down the quarters 
he occupied in the vast range of buildings buried in the forest, 
a mile back from the head of the harbor where his schooner 
lay; and Bart watched him curiously till he stopped, with his 
face twitching, and the frown deepening upon his brow. 

“ He will not give his word of honor not to attempt to 
escape, Bart," said the captain, pausing at last before his fol- 
lower. 

“ 'Twar'n't likely," said Bart. “ Who would? He'd get 
away if he could." + 

“ The prisoners can not escape through the forest; there is 
no way but the sea, and that must be properly watched. Hue 
notice must be given to all that any attempt to escape will be 
followed by the punishment of death. 

I hear/' said Bart, Am 1 to tell the captain that?" 
Jso, He must know it,; but I give him into your charge. 


152 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


You must watch over him, and protect him from himself 
and from any one else.^'’ 

I “ Black Mazzard?^"" 

‘‘ From any one likely to do him harm,^^ said the captain, 
sternly. “ You understand?^^ 

‘‘Yes. I^m going, replied Bart, in a low growl, as he 
gazed in his leader’s eyes; and then, with a curious, thought- 
ful look in his own, he went out of the captain's quarters and 
in the direction of the prison of the king’s officer. 

Bart had to go down the broad steps of an extensive, open 
amphitheater, whose stones were dislodged by the redundant 
growth of the forest; and, after crossing the vast court-yard at 
the bottom, to mount the steps on the other side toward where, 
dominating a broad terrace overshadowed by trees, stood a 
small, square temple, over whose door-way was carved a huge, 
demoniacal head, defaced by the action of time, but with the 
features still clearly marked. 

As Bart neared the building a figure appeared in the door- 
way for a moment, and then passed out into the sunshine. 

“ Halloo, my lad!” it exclaimed. “ You there?” 

Bart nodded. 

“ Been putting in the last six bar’ls of the sloop’s powder, 
and some of these days you’ll see the sun’ll, set it all alight, 
and blow the whole place to smithereens! Where are ye 
going?” 

“ Yonder, to the prisoners.” 

“ Poor divils!” said Hinny. “ Hadn’t ye better kill the lot 
and put ’em out of their misery? They must be tired of it, 
and so am I. Faix, and it’s a dirthy life for a man to lead!” 

“ Don’t let the skipper hear you say that, my lad,” growled 
Bart, “ or it may be awkward for you!” 

“ I’ll let annybody hear me!” cried Hinny. “ Sure, an’ 
it’s the life of a baste to lead, and a man like that Black Maz- 
zard bullying and finding fault. I’d have sent one of the 
powdher-kegs at his head this morning for the binifit of every- 
body here, only I might have blown myself up as well. ” 

“ Has he been swearing at you again?” 

“ Swearing! Bedad, Bart, he said things to me this morn- 
ing as scorched the leaves of the threes yonder. If you go and 
look you can see ’em all crickled up. He can swear!” 

Bart slouched away. 

“ It’s a divil of a place!” muttered Hinny; “ and it would 
make a wondherful stone-quarry; but I’m getting sick of it, 
fueling as if I ghould llko to desart. Black 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


153 


again he muttered, drawing in his breath sharply. “ I wish 
his greatest inimy would break his neck!’^ 

Dinny walked sharply away, for the lieutenant seemed to 
have been gathering authority since the taking of the sloop, 
and lost no opportunity of showing it to all the crew. 

Meanwhile, Bart had continued his way between the two 
piles of ruins, his path leading from the dazzling glow of the 
tropic sunshine into the subdued green twilight of the forest. 

Here, at the end of some fifty paces, he came to the exter- 
nal portion of the building which formed Captain Humphreys’s 
prison, and entering by a fairly well-preserved door-way, he 
raised a curtain half-way down a corridor, passed through, 
and then came abreast of a recess, at the end of which was 
another broad hanging, which he drew aside, and entered the 
temple-chamber, where Humphrey lay sleeping on a couch. 

As Bart approached he became aware of a faint rustling 
sound, as of some one retreating from the window among the 
trees, and starting forward, he looked out. But all was still; 
not a long rope-like liana quivering, no leaf crushed. 

“ Some monkey,^s» muttered Bart, and turning back, he 
gazed down with a heavy frown at the frank, handsome face 
of the young officer, till he saw the features twitch, the eyes 
open and stare wonderingly into his; and once more the pris- 
oner, roused by the presence of another gazing upon his sleep- 
ing face, suddenly sprung up. 

‘‘You here?” 

“ Yes, sir, I^m here,*’’’ said Bart. 

“What for? Why?^^ 

“ Nothing much, sir; only to tell you that you can go.” 

“Go?” cried the captain, excitedly. 

“ Yes, sir. Captain Junky’s orders — where you like, so long 
as you don’t try to escape. ” 

“But I must escape!” cried Humphrey, angrily. “Tell 
the captain I will not give my parole.” 

“ He don’t want it, sir. You can go where ybu like, only 
if you try to escape you will be shot. ” 

Humphrey Armstrong rose from where he had been lying 
and made as if to go to the door, his face full of • excitement, 
his eyes flashing, and his hands all of a tremble. 

“Go!” he said, sharply. “ Send that man who has acted 
as my servant. ” 

“ Servant!” muttered Bart, as he passed the curtain; “ and 
him a prisoner! Dinny called hisself his turnkey, but said as 
there was no door to lock. Here! hoi! Dinny!” 

“ What do you want with him?” said a fierce voice; and he 


154 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


turned, to find the lieutenant coming out of one of the ruined 
buildings. 

Prisoner wants him,^^ said Bart, sturdily. “ Here, Dinny, 
Captain Armstrong wants you.'’^ 

“ Ay, ay,^^ cried Dinny, who seemed to divine that Mazzard 
was about to stop him, and ran hastily on; while the lieutenant, 
who was half drunk, stood muttering, and then walked slowly 
away. “ Not so well, sor?^'’ 

“Wine — water!” panted Humphrey, hoarsely. “I tried 
to walk to the door and fell back here.'’^ 

“ Sure, an' ye're out of practice, sir,'' said Dinny, hasten- 
ing to hold a vessel of water to the prisoner's lips. “ That's 
better. Ye've tuk no exercise since ye've been betther.'' 

“ Ah!'' sighed Humphrey; “ the deadly sickness has gone. 
This place is so lonely.'' 

“ Ay, 'tis, sor. One always feels like an outside cock-bird 
who wants a mate. '' 

“ Sit down and talk to me.” 

“ Sure an' I will, wid pleasure, sor,'' said Dinny, eagerly. 
“ There's so few gintlemen to talk to here.” 

“ Tell me about your commander.” 

“ An' what'll I tell you about him?” 

“ What kind of a man is he?” 

“ Sure, and he's as handsome as such a little chap can be.'' 

“ Has he a wife here?” 

“AVoife, sor? Not he!” 

“ A troop of mistresses, then, or a harem?” 

“ Divil a bit, sor. He's riddy to shoot the boys whiniver 
they take a new wife — Ingin or white. I belave he hates the 
whole sex, and thinks women is divils, sor. W^hy, he hit Black 
Mazzard once, sor, for asking him why he didn't choose a 
pretty gyurl, and not live like a monk.” 

“ Is he brave?” 

“ Yes, sor; and I wouldn't anger him if 1 were you.” 

“ Not I,” said Humphrey. “ There the sickness has passed 
off. Now, help me out into the sunshine.” 

“ Help ye out?” said Dinny, looking puzzled. 

“Yes; into the bright sunshine. I seem to be decaying 
away here, man, and the warm light will give me strength.” 

“ Sure, an' if 1 do. Black Mazzard will p'ison me wid a 
pishtol-ball. ” 

“ I have the captain's consent,” said Humphrey. 

“ Sure, and ye're not deludhering a boy, are ye, sor?” said 
Dinny. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 155 

No, no, my man, it is right. Help me; I did not know 
I was so weak.^'’ 

“ An^ is it wake?^^ said Dinny, drawing the prisoner's arm 
well through his own. “ Sure, and didn’t I see gallons o’ 
blood run out of ye? Faix, and there was quarts and quarts 
of it; and I belave ye’d have died if I hadn’t nursed ye so tin- 
derly as I did. ” 

“ My good fellow, you’ve been like a good angel to me,” 
said Humphrey, feebly. Hah! how glorious!” he sighed, 
closing his eyes as they stepped out of the long corridor into 
the opening cut through the forest, and then between the two 
piles of ruins into the glorious tropic sunshine. 

“ Will it be too warrum?” said Dinny. 

‘‘Warm! No, man, my heart has been chilled with lying 
there in the darkness. Take me further out into the bright 
light.” 

“ Sure, and it’s the sun bating ye down ye’ll be having,” 
said Dinny. “ Look at that, now!” 

Dinny was gazing back at the pile of ancient buildings, and 
caught sight of a face in the shadow. 

“ Yes, I am trying to look,” said Humphrey, with a sigh; 
“ but my eyes are not used to the light.” 

“ Sure, an’ it’s the captain, and he’s kaping his oi on us,” 
said Dinny to himself. “ W^ll, all right, captain, darlin’! 
I’m not going to run away. ” 

“ What place is this?” 

“ Sure, an’ it’s meself don’t know, sir. Mebbe it’s the 
palace that the American payple built for Christy phy Colum- 
bus. Mebbe,” continued Dinny, “ it’s much o wider. Sure, 
and it shutes the captain, and we all live here whin we don’t 
live somewhere else.” 

“ Somewhere else?” said Humphrey, looking at Dinny won- 
deringly as he grasped his arm and signed to him to wait and 
give him breath. 

“ Well, I mane at say, sor, doing a bit o’ business among 
the ships. Ah, look at her, thin, the darlin’ !” he muttered, 
as a woman appeared for a moment among the lianas, held up 
her hand quickly to. Dinny, and turned away. 

“ What woman was that?” said Humphrey, hastily. 

“ Woman, sor?” 

“ Yes; that woman who kissed her hand to you.” 

“ An’ did she kiss her hand to me, sor?” 

“ Yes, man, you must have seen.” 

“ Sure, an’ it must have been Misthress Greenheys, sor.” 

“ Mistress Greenheys?” 


156 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


‘‘ A widow lady, sor, whose husband had an accident one 
day wid his ship and got killed. 

“ And you know her?” 

‘‘ We’ve been getting a little friendly lately,” said Dinny, 
demurely. ‘‘ There, sor, you’re getting wake. Sit down on 
that owld stone in the shade. Bedad, it ain’t illigant, the cut- 
ting upon it, for it’s like a shkull, but it’s moighty convanient 
under that three. That’s better; and I’ll go and ask Bart to 
bring ye a cigar.” 

No, stop,” said Humphrey. “I want to talk to you, 
man. That woman’s husband was murdered, then?” 

“ Murdered! Faix, and that’s thrue. Sure, an’ some one 
hit him a bit too hard, sor, and he doied.” 

“ Murdered by these buccaneers!” said Humphrey, excited- 
ly, and he looked wildly around him, when his eye lighted on 
the trim, picturesque figure of the little woman, who was in- 
tently watching them, and he saw her exchange a sign with his 
companion. 

The key of life — the great motive which moves the 
world,” said Humphrey to himself; and he turned suddenly 
on Hinny, who had his hand to his mouth and looked sheepish. 

“ You love that woman,” he said, sharply. 

Whisht, captain, dear!” said, Hinny, softly; and then in a 
whisper, with a roguish leer, sure, it isn’t me, sor; it’s the 
darlin’s took a bit of a fancy to me.” 

“ Yes, and you love her,” said Humphrey. 

“ Och, what a way ye have of putting it, sor! Sure, and 
the poor crittur lost her husband, and she’s been living here 
iver since, and she isn’t happy, and what could a boy do but 
thry to comfort her?” 

“ Are you going to marry her. Hinny?” said Humphrey, 
after a pause. 

“ Faix, an’ I would if I had a chance, sor; but there’s two 
obshticles in the way, and one of ’em’s Black Mazzard. ” 

‘‘ Then, why not take her. Hinny?” 

Tak’ her, sor?” 

“ Yes; from this wretched place. Escape.” 

“ Whisht! Hon’t say that word aloud again, darlin’, or 
may be the captain’ll get to hear. Sure, and I belave that the 
great big shtone gods shticking up all over the place gets to 
hear what’s said and whishpers it again to the captain, who 
always knows everything that goes on.” 

“ Take her, and help me to escape,” whispered Humphrey, 
earnestly. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 157 

Whisht, man! Howld your tongue. Is it wanting to see 
me hanging on one of the threes? Eshcape?^' 

“ Yes. I am a rich man, and if you can get me away 1^11 
reward you handsomely. 

‘‘ Hark at him'!'' said Hinny, scornfully. “ Why, 1 should 
have to give up my share of what we've got shtored up here. 
Why, sor, I dare say I'm a richer man than yourself. Eshcape! 
and after all I've shworn." 

Hinny turned away and began cutting a stick. 

‘‘ Tell me," said Humphrey, “ are there many of my men 
here?" 

“ Jist twenty, sor." 

‘‘ And how many are there of the pirates?" 

Hinny laughed with his eyes half shut. . 

Sure, sor, what d'ye tak' me for? Ye don't think I'm 
going to tell ye that?" ' 

Humphrey sighed, and was silent for a time; but an intense 
desire to know more about the place was burning within him, 
and he began to question his companion again. 

“ Are the prisoners in one of these old temples?" 

“ Yes. On the other side of the big pyramid yonder, sor; 
but ye can't get to them widout going a long way round. " 

“ Are there many women here besides that Mistress Green- 
heys?" 

“ Sure, yis, there is a dozen of 'em, sor. Not half enough, 
but just enough to kape the min quarreling; and there's been 
no end of bother about the women being kept in the place." 


CHAPTER XXV. 

PLANS OP ESCAPE. 

Humphrey Armstrong was weaker from his wounds than 
be believed; but the change from being shut up in the dim 
temple chamber with the great stone idol for company to the 
comparatively free open air of the forest clearing rapidly re- 
stored the elasticity of his nature, and gave him ample oppor- 
tunities for studying the state of affairs. 

He found that the buccaneers went out but seldom, and that 
when expeditions were made they would be fairly divided. At 
one time the captain would be in command, at another the 
lieutenant, so that their settlement was never left unprotected. 

As far as he could judge, they were about a hundred in num- 
ber, and great dilapidated chambers in the range of temples 
and palaces formed admirable barracks and means of defense, 
such as in time of need could easily be held against attack. 


168 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


But Humphrey’s great idea was escape; and to accomplish 
this it seemed to him that his first need was to open up com- 
munication with his men. 

This he determined to accomplish, for with the liberty given 
it seemed to be a very easy thing to walk to some heap of 
stones at the edge of the forest and there seat himself till he 
was unobserved, when he could quietly step into the dense 
thicket, and make his way to where his followers were im- 
prisoned. 

He had not long to wait, for it seemed that, after being 
closely watched for the first few days, the latitude allowed to 
him was greater. He had but to walk to the edge of the forest 
and wait, for the opportunity was sure to come. 

. Easy as it appeared though in theory, it proved less so in 
performance, and it was not till after several attempts that he 
felt one day sure of success. 

It was soon after midday, when the great amphitheater and 
the grotesquely ornamented ruins with their huge heads and 
shadowy trees were baking in the sun. The men who were 
often idling about had sought places where they could indulge 
in their siesta, and a silence as of the grave had fallen upon 
the place. 

Humphrey Armstrong had walked to a pile of ruins beneath 
one of the trees, and seated himself upon a huge stone sculpt- 
ured round with figures writhing in impossible attitudes, and 
one and all wearing highly ornamented head-dresses of feathers. 

He lay back there as if half drowsy with the heat, and with 
half-closed eyes looked watchfully round to see whether he was 
observed. But as far as he could see the place was utterly 
deserted. Bart, who’ was often here and there giving a kind 
of supervision to the buccaneers’ settlement, and seeing that 
people from the barracks did not collect near the captain’s 
quarters, seemed to be absent. Hinny, who had been with him 
an hour before, had gone olf on some duty with Hick Hullock, 
and everything pointed to the fact that this was the oppor- 
tunity so long sought. 

He hesitated no longer; but after casting another glance 
round at the dark, shadowy nooks among the trees and ruins, 
all of which seemed purply black in contrast with the blazing 
' glare of sunshine, he softly slid himself back from the stone 
and dropped down among the undergrowthy and raised his 
head to peer among the leaves. 

He obtained a good view of the great amphitheater and the 
. surrounding ruins, but all was still. No one had seen him 
move, and not a leaf was stirring. 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


159 


Trifles seemed magnified at those moments into great mat- 
ters, and with his nerves strung up to the highest pitch of ten- 
sion he started, for all at once something moved away by the 
edge of the forest on his left. But it was only 9, great butter- 
fly which fluttered over the baking stones, above which the air 
seemed to quiver, and then, with its brightly painted wings 
casting a broad shadow, it crossed the ruined amphitheater and 
was gone, 

Humphrey Armstrong crept from behind his resting-place 
right to the shelter of the trees at the edge of the forest, and 
his spirits rose as he found how easy an evasion seemed to be. 
He had only to secure the co-operation of half a dozen of his 
men, take advantage of the listlessness of the buccaneers some 
such hot day as this, make their way down to the shore, seize 
a boat, and then coast along till a settlement was reached or a 
ship seen to take them aboard. 

It was very simple, and it seemed easier and easier as he got 
further away from the ruins and his prison. On his right the 
forest was dense, but the buccaneers had cut down and burned 
numbers of trees so as to keep them back from encroaching 
further on the old buildings; and along here among the mossy 
stumps Humphrey Armstrong crept. 

But it was easy — nothing seemed more simple. Already he saw 
himself round to the other side of the ruins, holding communi- 
cation with his fellow-prisoners and making plans, when, to 
his great delight, he found that he had hit upon what was evi- 
dently a way to the other side of the ancient ruins; for he sud- 
denly came upon a narrow passage through the dense forest 
growth, literally a door-way cut in the tangle of creepers and 
vines that were matted among the trees. It must have been 
an arduous task, but it had been thoroughly done — the vines 
having been hewn through, or in places half divided and bent 
back, to go on interlacing at the sides, with the result that a 
maze-like path ran in and out among the trees. 

The moment he was in this path the glare of the sunny day 
was exchanged for a dim greenish-hued twilight, which dark- 
ened with evei7 step he took. Overhead a pencil of sunshine 
could be seen from time to time, but rarely, for the mighty 
forest interlaced their branches a hundred and fifty feet above 
his head, and the air was heavy with the moist odor of vege- 
table decay. 

The forest path had evidently been rarely used of late, for 
the soft earth showed no imprints, the tender sickly growth of 
these deep shades had not been crushed; and as Humphrey 
realized these facts, he glanced back, to see how easily his trail 


160 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


could be followed — each step he had taken being either im- 
pressed in the vegetable soil or marked by the crushing down 
of moss or herb. 

The sight of this impelled him to additional effort, so that he 
might gain some definite information about his people, and 
perhaps seek them by night, when once he had found the 
means of communication. In this spirit he was hurrying on 
when he came suddenly, in one of the darkest paths, upon a 
figure which barred his. way, and it was with the addition of a 
rage-wrung savage exclamation that he uttered his captures 
name. 

There was a dead silence in the dark forest as these two 
stood face to face, buried, as it were, in a gloomy tunnel. 
After Humphrey’s impatient ejaculation, drawn from him in 
his surprise, quite a minute elapsed; and then, half mocking- 
ly, came in a deep, low voice: 

“Yes! Commodore Junk!” 

Humphrey stood glaring down at the obstacle in his path. 
He was tall and athletic, and, in spite of his weakness and the 
tales he had heard of the other’s powers, he felt that he could 
seize this man, hurl him down, and plant his foot upon his 
chest; for the buccaneer captain was without weapons, and 
stood looking up at him with one hand resting upon his hips, 
the other raised to his beardless face, with a well-shaped, small 
index finger slightly impressing his rounded cheek. 

“ Yes,” he said again mockingly, “ Commodore Junk! 
Well, Humphrey Armstrong, what mad fit is this?” 

“ Mad fit!” cried Humphrey, quickly recovering himself. 
“ You allowed me to be at liberty, and 1 am exploring the 
place.” 

The buccaneer looked in his eyes, with the mocking smile 
growing more marked. 

“ Is this Captain Humphrey Armstrong, the brave com- 
mander sent to exterminate me and mine, stooping to make a 
miserable excuse — to tell a lie?” 

“ A lie!” cried Humphrey, fiercely, as he took a step in ad- 
vance. 

“ Yes, a lie!” said the buccaneer, without moving a muscle. 
“ You were trying to find some way by which you could es- 
cape.” 

“ Well,” cried Humphrey, passionately, “ 1 am a prisoner. 
I have refused to give my parole; I was trying to find some 
way of escape. ” 

“That is more like you,” said the buccaneer, quietly. 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


161 


Why? What do you require? Are you not well treated by 
my men?^'’ 

“You ask me why/"" cried Humphrey — “me, whom you 
have defeated — disgraced, and whom you hold here a prisoner? 
You ask me why?^'’ 

“ Yes. I whom you would have taken, and, if 1 had not 
died sword in hand, have hung at your yard-arm, and then 
gibbeted at the nearest port as a scarecrow.'''' 

He was silent, and the buccaneer went on: 

‘ ‘ I have looked back, and I can not see you placing a cabin 
at my disposal, seeing me nursed back from the brink of death, 
treated as a man would treat his wounded brother. 

“ No,’ ’ cried Humphrey, quickly; “ and why have you done 
all this when it would have been kinder to have s|ain me on 
that wretched day?” 

“ Why have I done this!” said the buccaneer, with the color 
deepening in his swarthy face. “ Ah, why have I done this! 
Perhaps,” he continued, bitterly, “because I said to myself: 
‘ This is a brave, true, English gentleman;’ and 1 find instead 
a man who does not hesitate to lie to screen his paltry effort to 
escape. ” 

Humphrey made a menacing gesture; but the buccaneer did 
not stir. 

“ Look here, sir,” he continued. “ I am in this place more 
powerful among my people than the king you serve. You 
smile; but you will find that it is true.” 

“ If I am not killed, sir, trying to make some effort to es- 
cape — ” • ■ 

“ Escape!” cried the buccaneer, with his face lighting up. 
“ Man, you have been warned before that you can not escape. 
The forest beyond where we stand is one dense thicket through 
which no man can pass unless he cut his way inch by inch. It 
is one vast solitude, standing as it has stood since the world 
was made. ” 

“ Bah!” cried Humphrey, scornfully. “ A determined man 
could make his way.” 

“ How far?” cried the buccaneer. ‘‘ A mile — two miles — 
and then, what is there? — starvation, fever, and death — lost in 
that vast wilderness. Even the Indians can not penetrate 
those woods and mountains. Will you not take my word?” 

“ Would you take mine,” said Humphrey, scornfully, “ if 
our places were changed? I shall escape.” 

The buccaneer smiled. 

“You have an easy master, captain,” he said, quietly; 
“ but I would like' to see you wear your chains more easily. 


162 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


Humphrey Armstrong, you can not escape. There is only one 
way from this place, and that is by the sea, and there is no 
need to guard that. Look here,^^ he cried, laying his hand 
upon the prisoner’s arm, “ you have been planning this for 
days and days. You have lain out yonder upon that stone by 
the old palace, calculating how you could creep away ; and you 
found your opportunity to-day, when you said to yourself, 
‘ These people are all asleep now, and I will find my way 
round to where my men are prisoners.’ ” 

As he spoke Humphrey changed color and winced, for the 
buccaneer seemed to have read his every thought. 

And then you came upon this jDath through the forest, 
and you felt that this was the way to freedom.” 

Are you a devil?” cried Humphrey, excitedly. 

“•Perhaps,” was the mocking reply. “Perhaps only the 
great butterfly you watched before you started, as it lazily 
winged its way among the broken stones. ” 

Humphrey uttered an exclamation, and gazed wildly in the 
dark, mocking eyes. 

“ Never mind what I am, captain, but pray understand this 
— you can not escape from here. When you think you are 
most alone, there are eyes upon you which see your every act, 
and your movements are all known. ” 

“ I will not believe it,” cried Humphrey, angrily. 

“ Then disbelieve it; but it is true. I tell you there is no 
escape, man. You may get away a few miles perhaps, but 
every step you take bristles with the threatenings of death. 
So be warned, and bear your »fate patiently. Wait! Grow 
strong once more.” 

“ And then?” cried Humphrey, excitedly. “ What then?” 

“ Ah, yes,” said the buccaneer, who assumed not to have 
heard his words, “ you are still weak. That flush in your face 
is the flush of fever, and you are low and excited.” 

“ Hog! You are mocking me!” cried Humphrey, furious- 
ly, for he felt the truth of every word that had been said, and 
his impotence maddened him. 

“ Dog!” cried the buccaneer as furiously. 

“Yes; wretched cut-throat — murderer!” cried Humphrey 
r--‘‘ miserable wretch, whom I could strangle where you 
stand!” 

The buccaneer turned of a sallow pallor, his brow knit, his 
eyes flashed, and his chest heaved, as he stood glaring at Hum- 
phrey; but the sudden storm of passion passed away, and with 
a smile of pity he said softly: 

“ You call names like a petulant boy. Come, 1 am not 


COMMODOBE JUNK. 


163 


angry with you; lot us go back to your room. The heat of 
this place is too much for you, and to-morrow you will be 
down with fever. 

“ Bah!^^ ejaculated Humphrey, angrily. 

“ It is true,^^ said the buccaneer. Oome.^’ 

“ There is something behind all this,' ^ cried the young man, 
excitedly. We are alone here. I am the stronger; and, in 
spite of your boasting, there is no one here to help. You shall 
speak out, and tell me what this means. 

His gesture was threatening now; but the buccaneer did not 
stir. 


‘‘ I am not alone, he said, quietly. “ I never am without 
some one to protect mo. Bat there, you shall be answered. 
Why have I had you tended as I have? Well, suppose I have 
said to myself, ‘ Here is a brave man who should be one of 
us?^ 


‘‘ One of you!” cried Humphrey, with a scornful laugh. 

Suppose,” continued the buccaneer, with his nether lip 
quivering slightly, “ I had said to myself, ‘ You are alone here. 
Your men obey you, but you have no friends among them — 
no companions whom you can trust. Why not make this man 
your friend?^ ” 

Humphrey smiled, and the buccaneer^s lip twitched slightly 
as he continued: 

“ You are fevered and disappointed now, and I shall not 
heed your words. I tell you once for all that you must accept 
your fate here as others have accepted theirs. I need not tell 
you that for one to escape from here would be to bring ruin 
upon all. Hence every one is his brother’s guardian; and the 
Indians for hundreds of miles around, at first our enemies till 
they felt my power, are now my faithful friends.” 

Humphrey laughed mockingly. 

“You laugh, sir. Well, it is the laugh of ignorance, as 
you will find. It is no idle boast when I say that I am king 
here over my people, and the tribes to north and south.” 

“ The Indians, too?” said Humphrey. 

“ Yes, the Indians, too, as you found to your cost.” 

“ To my cost?” 

“ To your cost. Your ship was in my way. You troubled 
me; and your people had to be removed. Well, they were re- 
moved. ” 

“ The treacherous hounds!” cried Humphrey, grinding his 
teeth as he recalled the action of the two Indians, and their 


escape. 

“ Treacherous! Ho. You would have employed men to 


164 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


betray me; it was but fighting you with your own weapons, 
sir; and these you call "treacherous hounds were true, brave 
fellows who risked their life to save me and mine. 

Humphrey was silent. 

Come, Captain Armstrong; you will suffer bitterly for 
this. There are chills and fevers in the depths of this forest 
which seize upon strangers like you, especially upon those 
weakened by their wounds, and I do not want to lose the officer 
and gentleman who is to be my friend and help here, where I 
am, as it were, alone. 

“ Your friend and help!’^ said Humphrey, haughtily, “ I 
am your prisoner, sir; but you- forget to whom you are speak- 
ing. How dare you ask me to link my fate with that of your 
cut-throat band — to share with you a life of plunder and dis- 
grace, with the noose at the yard-arm of every ship in his ma- 
jesty's navy waiting to end your miserable career? I tdl you 
—I tell you — 

He made a clutch at the nearest branch to save himself, for 
his head swam, black spots veiled in mist and strangely blurred 
seemed to be descending from above to form a blinding veil 
before his eyes. He recovered himself for a moment, long 
enough to resent the hand stretched out to save him, and then 
all was blank, and with a hoarse sigh he would have fallen 
heavily but for the strong arms that caught him, held him 
firmly for a few moments, and then a faint catching sigh was 
heard in the stillness of the forest, as Humphrey Armstrong 
was lowered slowly upon the moss and a soft brown hand laid 
upon his forehead, as the buccaneer bent down upon one knee 
by his side. 

‘^Want me?’^ said a deep, low voice; and the buccaneer 
started as if from a dream, with his face hardening, and the 
wrinkles which had been smoothed reappearing deeply in the 
broad forehead. 

“ You here, Bart 

“ Ay, I^m here.^^ 

“ Watching me?^^ 

Ay, watching of you.^^ 

The buccaneer rose and gave the interloper an angry look. 

‘‘ Well, why not?'^ said Bart. “ How did 1 know what 
he^d do?'^ 

And. you^e seen and heard all?^^ 

Everything,^^ said Bart, coolly. 

“ When I told you to be within hearing only if I whistled or 
caUed.^^ 


COMMODORE JUlfK. 


165 

‘‘ What^s the use of that when a blow or a stab would stop 
them both?^^ 

“ Bart, I— 

Go on> I don^t mind,^"' said Bart, quietly; “ 1 want to live, 
and if you was to come to harm, that would be the end of 
me/’ 

The buccaneer gave an impatient stamp, but Bart paid no 
heed. 

'‘Give me a lift up and ITl carry him back,” he said, 
quietly. 

All this was done, and Dinny summoned, so that when, an 
hour later, Humphrey unclosed his eyes, it was with his head 
throbbing with fever, a wild, half -delirious dreaminess troubling 
his brain, and the great stone image glaring down at him 
through the dim green twilight of the prison room. 

It was a bitter experience for the prisoner to find that he 
had overrated his powers. The effort, the excitement, and the 
malaria of the forest prostrated him for a fortnight, and at the 
end of that time he found that he was in no condition to make 
a further attempt at securing the means of escape. 

He lay in his gloomy chamber thinking over the buccaneer’s 
insolent proposal, and fully expected that he would resent the 
way in which it had been received; but to his surprise he re- 
ceived the greatest of attention, and wine, fruit, and various 
delicacies that had evidently come from the stores of some 
well-found ship were placed before him to tempt his appetite. 

Dinny was his regular attendant, and always cheery and 
ready to help him in every way; but no more was said for a 
time respecting an evasion, though Humphrey was waiting his 
time; for after lying for hours, day after day, debating his posi- 
tion, he came to the conclusion that if he did escape it must 
be through this light-spirited Irishman. 

His captor did not come to him as far as he knew; but he 
had a suspicion that more than once the buccaneer had been 
watching from some point or another unknown to him. But 
one day a message was brought by Bart, who entered the 
gloomy chamber and in his short, half-surly way thus delivered 
himself: 

" Orders from the skipper, sir.” 

" Orders from your captain?” said Humphrey, flushing. 

" To say that he is waiting for your answer, sir.” 

“ My answer, man? I gave him my answer.” 

" And that he can wait any time; but a message from you 
that you want to see him will bring him here. ” 

“ There is no other answer,” said Humphrey, coldly. 


166 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


‘‘ Better not say that/^ said Bart^ after standing gazing at 
the prisoner for some time. 

“ What do yon mean?^^ cried Humphrey, haughtily. 

‘‘ Don^t know. What am 1 to say to the captain?'^ 

“ I have told you. There is no answer, said Humphrey, 
coldly, and he turned away, but lay listening intently, for it 
struck him that he had heard a rustle in the great stone corri- 
dor without, as if some one had been listening; but the thick 
carpet-like curtain fell, and he heard no more, only lay watch- 
ing the faint rays of light which descended through the dense 
foliage of the trees, as some breeze waved them softly far on 
high, and slightly relieved the prevailing gloom. 

Bark’s visit had started a current of thought which was once 
more running strongly when Dinny entered with a basket of 
delicious little grapes which grew wild in the sunny open parts 
of the mountain slopes. ? 

“ There, sor,^^ he said, ‘‘ and all me own picking, except 
about half of them which Misthress Greenheys sint for ye. 
Will ye take a few bunches now?’^ 

‘‘ Dinny, said Humphrey, in a low, earnest voice, “ have 
you thought of what I said to you?’"’ 

“ Taix, and which? what is it ye mane, sor?^^ 

“You know what I mean, man; about helping me to escape 
from here?^^ 

“About helping ye to eshcape, sor? Oh, it^s that ye 
mane?’"’ 

“ Yes, man; will you help me?’^ 

“Will I help ye, sor? D^ye see these threes outside the 
windy yonder, which isnT a windy, bekase it has no glass in 
it?^^ 

“ Yes, yes, I see,^^ cried Humphrey, with all a sick man^s 
petulance. 

.“ Well, theyVe got no fruit upon ^em, sor.'’^ 

“No, of course not. They are not of a fruit-bearing kind. 
What of that?^' 

“ Faix, an" if I helped ye to eshcape, captain, darlin", sure 
ann one of "em would be having fruit hanging to it before the 
day was out, apd a moighty foiue kind of pear it Would be."" 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

UNDER ANOTHER RULE. 

“ You"re to keep to your prison till further orders,"" said 
Bart one day as he entered the place. 

“ Who says so?"" cried Humphrey, angrily. 


COMMODORE JtTNK. 


167 


‘‘ Lufftenant/' 

“What! Mazzardr^ 

“Yes, sir. His orders. 

“ Curse Lieutenant Mazzard!^^ cried Humphrey. “ Where 
is the captain?^^ 

Ko answer. 

“ Is this so-called lieutenant master here?^^ 

“ Tries to be,^^ grumbled Bart. 

“ The captain is away, then?” 

“ Orders are not to answer questions,^ ^ said Bart, abruptly; 
and he left the chamber. 

Humphrey was better. The whims and caprices of a sick 
man were giving way to the return of health, and with this he 
began to chafe angrily. 

He laughed bitterly and seated himself by the window to 
gaze out at the dim arcade of forest, and wait till such time as 
he felt disposed to go out, and then have a good wander about 
the ruins, and perhaps go down that path where he had been 
arrested by the appearance of the captain. 

He had no hope of encountering any of his crew, for, from 
what he could gather, fully half the survivors, sick of the pris- 
oner's life, had joined the buccaneer crew, while the rest had 
been taken to some place further along the coast — where, he 
could not gather from Hinny, who had been letting his tongue 
run and then suddenly stopped short. But all the same he 
clung to the hope that in the captain ^s absence he might dis- 
cover something which would help him in his efforts to escape 
and come back, if not as commander, at all events as guide to 
an expedition that should root out this hornets^ nest. 

Midday arrived, and he was looking forward to the coming 
of Hinny with his meal, an important matter to a man with 
nothing to do, and only his bitter thoughts for companions. 
The Irishman lightened his weary hours too, and every time 
he came the captive felt some little hope of winning him over 
to help him to escape. 

“Ah, Hinny, my lad!” he said, as he heard a step, and the 
hanging curtain was drawn aside, “ what is it to-day ?” 

“ Fish, eggs, and fruit,” said Bart, gruffly. 

“Oh! it’s you!” said Humphrey, bitterly. “ Hinny away 
with that cursed schooner?” 

“ Schooner's as fine a craft as ever sailed,” growled Bart. 
“ Orders to answer no questions.” 

“ You need not answer, my good fellow,” said the prisoner, 
haughtily. “ That scoundrel of a buccaneer is away— I know 
that, and Hinny is with him, or you would not be doing this.” 


168 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


Barths heavy face lightened as he saw the bitterness of the 
prisoner's manner when he spoke of the captain; but it grew 
' somber directly after, as if he resented it; and spreading the 
meal upon a broad stone, covered with a white cloth — a stone 
in front of the great idol, and probably once used for human 
sacrifice — he sullenly left the place. 

The prisoner sat for a few minutes by the window wonder- 
ing whether Lady Jenny was thinking about him, and sighed 
as he told himself that she was pining for him as he pined for 
her. Then turning to the midday meal, he began with a 
capital appetite, and not at all after the fashion of a man in 
love, to discuss some very excellent fish, which was made more 
enjoyable by a flask of fine wine. 

“Yes,^’ he said, half aloud, “I shall go just where I 
please. 

He stopped and listesned, for a voice certainly whispered 
from somewhere close at hand the word “ Kelly 

‘‘Yes; what is it?- Who called?” said the prisoner, aloud. 

There was a momentary silence, and then a peculiar whis- 
pering voice said: 

“ Don^t be frightened.” 

“ L’m not,” said Humphrey, trying to make out whence 
the voice came, and only able to surmise that it was from 
somewhere over the dark corner where he slept. 

“ I want Dennis Kelly,” said the voice. 

“ He^s not here. Away with the schooner,” continued 
Humphrey. 

“Oh!” 

The ejaculation came like a moan of disappointment. 

^ “ Here, who are you?” cried Humphrey. 

“No; he can not be away, sir. But hist! hush, for 
Heaven^s sake! You will be heard,” said the voice. “ Speak 
low.” 

“ Well, Ifil speak in a whsiper if you like,” said Hum- 
phrey. “ But where are you?” 

“tip above your chamber,” was the reply. “There is a 
place where the stones are broken away.” 

“Then I am watched,” thought Humphrey, as the an- 
nouncement recalled the captain. 

“ Can you see me?” he asked. 

“ I can not see you where you are now, but I could if you 
went and lay dovn upon your couch.” 

“ Then 1^11 go there, said Humphrey, crossing the great 
chamber to throw himself on the blankets and skins. “ Now, 
then, what do you want with Dinny?” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


169 


I knew the captain had gone to sea/^ said the voice, eva- 
sively; “ but 1 did not know Kelly had been taken too. He 
can not be> without letting me know. 

“ Can you come down and talk to me?^^ 

“No; you are too well watched. 

“ Then how did you get here?” 

“ I crept through the forest and climbed up,” was th^ re- 
ply. “ I can see you now.^^ 

“ But how did you know you could see ipe there?” 

‘ ‘ I thought I could. I was watching for some one a little 
while ago, and saw the captain looking down through here. 

“ I thought as much,” said IJumphrey, half aloud; and he 
was about to speak again when Bart entered suddenly, looked 
sharply round, and showed the wisdom of his new' Visitor by 
going straight to the window and looking out. 

“Who were you talking to?” he said, gruffly, as he came 
back, still looking suspiciously round. 

“ To myself,” said Humphrey, quite truthfully, for his last 
remark had been so addressed. 

Bart uttered a grunt, and glanced at the dinner. 

“ Done?” he said. 

“ No. Surely I may spend as long as I li^e over my meals 
here. ” 

Bart nodded and went out, the heavy curtain falling behind 
him; while Humphrey slowly rose and went back to the stone 
altar, where he filled a silver cup from the flask and drank, 
and then began humming an air. After this he walked to the 
curtain and peered cautiously through into the dark corridor, 
to see the heavy figure of the buccaneer's henchman go slowly 
along past the patches of dull green light streaming through 
the openings which occurred some thirty feet apart. 

“ Gone!” said Humphrey, returning quickly. “ Are you 
there?” 

“Yes. I could hear everything. ” 

“ Listen!” said Humphrey, quickly. “ You are Mistress 
Greenheys?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And you love Dennis Kelly?” 

There was silence. 

“ You need not fear me. I know your history,” continued 
Humphrey. “ You are, like myself, a prisoner, and* in the 
power of that black-looking lieutenant.” 

There was a piteous sigh here, and then came with a sob : 

“ I am a miserable slave, sir,” 


170 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“Yes, yes, I know. Then look here, can we not all escape 
together?^'' 

“ Escape, sir! How?” 

“ Through Dinny^s help.” 

“ He would not give it, sir. It would be impossible. I — I 
— there ! I will speak out, sir — 1 can bear this horrible life no 
longer! 1 have asked him to take me away.^^ 

“ Well, will he not?” 

“ He is afraid, sir.” 

“ And yet he loves you?” 

“ He says so. ” 

“ And you believe it, or yoi^ would not run risks by coming 
here?” 

“ Eisks!” said the woman, with a sigh. “ If Mazzard knew 
I came here, he would kill me!” 

“ The wretch!” muttered Humphrey. Then, aloud, 
“ Dinny must help us. Woman, surely you can win him to 
our side! You will try?” 

“ Try, sir! I will do anything!” 

“ Work upon his feelings, and I will try and do the same.” 

“ He fears the risk of the escape, and also what may happen 
to him when he gets back to England. He has been a buc- 
caneer, and, he tells me, a soldier. He will be charged with 
desertion.” 

“ I will answer for his safety,” said Humphrey, hastily. 
And then running to the curtain he made sure that Bart was 
not listening. 

“ Be cautious,” he said, as he went back and began to pace 
up and down, with his eyes fixed upon the groun^. “Tell 
mie, could we get a boat?” 

“ I donT know, sir; I think so. Would it not be better to 
take to the forest?” 

“ That we must consider. First of all. Hinny must be won 
over.” 

“I will try.” 

“ How could I communicate with you?” 

“You could not, sir. I came to-day to warn Hinny to be 
cautious, for Mazzard suspects something. He has gone to the 
men’s place, or I could not be here. ” 

“ But you can come sometimes and speak to me. You will 
be able to know whether any one is here.” 

“ If I'can come, sir,” said the woman; “ but it is very diffi- 
cult. The commodore is always about; nothing escapes him. ” 

“ A scoundrel!” 

“ I don’t think he is such a very bad man,” said the woman. 


COMMODORE JUITK. 171 

“Indeed! Ah, women always find an excuse for a good^ 
looking scoundrel 

“ I don^t think a man who is faithful to the woman he loved 
can be very bad,"*^ said the voice, softly. 

“ Faithful! why, I suppose he has a dozen wives here?^^ 

“ He? Oh, no! I don^t know, sir, exactly, but I have seen 
him go to the old chamber in one of these ruinous places, and 
he goes there to pray by the side of a coffin. 

“ What?’^ cried Humphrey. 

“Yes, a coffin; and it contains the body of the woman he 
loved, or else of his sister. Ho one here knows but Dinny 
and Bart, and — 

“Hist!” whispered Humphrey, catching up a bunch of 
grapes and beginning to eat them. 

He had heard the distant step of his guardian, and then 
there was silence, for Bart seemed to creep up and listen before 
entering, which he did at last, to find the prisoner muttering 
to himself and eating the grapes. 

“ Hone?” 

“ Yes. You can clear away.^^ 

Bart obeyed and turned to go, but as he reached the cur- 
tain — 

“You have plenty of cigars?” he said. 

“ I?” 

“ Ah, well, IVe got some there,” growled Bart, and he 
handed the prisoner half a dozen roughly made rolls of the 
tobacco-leaf. “ How, you understand,” he continued, as he 
made to go once more, “ you’re to keep here till the skipper 
comes back.” 

“ Are you afraid I shall escape?” said Humphrey, con- 
temptuously. 

“ Hot a bit, captain; but when one man’s life depends on 
another’s, it makes him careful.” 

The curtain dropped behind him, and Humphrey stood list- 
ening and thinking. 

Bart’s step could be faintly heard now, and, feeling safe, the 
prisoner went back to his couch, and gazed up in the direction 
from whence the voice had come. 

“ Are you still there?” he said, softly. 

There was no reply, and a repetition of the question was fol- 
lowed by the same silence. 

“ It’s strange,” he said, gazing up in the gloom overhead 
to where, in the midst of a good deal of rough carving, there 
seemed to be a small opening, though he could not be sure. 
“ Why should he come and watch me, and take this interest 


m 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


in my well-being? I am not like an ordinary prisoner, and 
his friendly way, his submission to the rough contempt with 
which I treated him — it^s strange, very strange! What can it 
mean?^^ 

He threw himself upon the couch, to lie for some time 
thinking and trying to interpret the meaning; but all was 
black and confused as the dark mass of carving from which 
the woman’s voice had seemed to come; and, giving it up at 
last, he rose, and without any hesitation walked straight out 
through the opening, and made his way along the corridor to 
where the sun blazed forth and made him stand and shade his 
eyes, as he remained considering which way he should go. 

The prisoner made a bold dash in a fresh direction, going 
straight toward where he believed the men’s quarters to be; 
and, as before, the moment he had passed behind the ruins he 
found himself face to face with a dense wall ol verdure, so 
matted together that, save to a bird or a small animal, further 
progress was impossible. 

Defeated here, he tried another and another place, till his 
perseverance was rewarded by the finding of one of the dark, 
maze-like paths formed by cutting away the smaller growth 
and zigzagging through the trees. 

Into this dark path-way he plunged, to find that at the end 
of five minutes he had lost all idea, through its abrupt turns, 
of the direction in which he was going; while before he had 
penetrated much further the, path- way forked, and, unable to 
decide which would lead him in the required direction, he took 
the path to the right. 

It was plain enough that these green tunnels through the 
forest had been cut by the buccaneers for purposes of defense 
in case of an enemy carrying their outer works, so that he was 
in no way surprised to find the path he had taken led right to 
a huge crumbling stone building, whose mossy walls rose up 
among the trees somber and forbidding, and completely bar- 
ring his way. 

It was a spot where a few resolute men might keep quite an 
army at bay, for the walls were ot enormous extent, the win- 
dows mere stone lattices, and the door- way in front so low 
that a stooping attitude was necessary for him who would 
enter. , This was consequent upon the falling of stones from 
above and the blocking partially of the way. 

There was a strange, mysterious aspect in the place, over- 
grown as it was with the redundant growth, which fascinated 
the explorer, and feeling impelled to go on he gave one glance 
round, and was about to enter, when out of the utter stillness 


COMMODORE JUITK. 173 

he heard a low sound as if some one had been watching him 
and given vent to a low expiration of the breath. 

Humphrey started and looked sharply round, unable to re- 
strain a shudder; but no one was visible, and he was about to 
go on, feeling ashamed of his nervousness, when the sound was 
repeated, this time from above his head; and glancing up, he 
leaped back, for twenty feet above his head in the green gloom 
there was a curious, impish face gazing down at him; and as 
he made out more and more of the object, it seemed as if some 
strange goblin were suspended in midair and about to drop 
upon his head. 

“ It^s the darkness, I suppose, exclaimed Humphrey, 
angrily, as he uttered a loud hiss, whose effect was to make 
the strange object give itself a swing and reveal the fact that 
it was hanging by its tail alone from the end of a rope-like 
vine which depended from the vast ceiling of interlacing 
leaves. 

With apparently not the slightest effort the goblin-like creat- 
ure caught a loop of the same vine, clung there for a moment 
to gaze back at the intruder into this weird domain, displaying 
its curiously human countenance, and then sped upward, when 
there was a rush as of a wave high above the visible portion of 
the interlacing boughs, and Humphrey knew that he had 
startled quite a flock of the little forest imps, who sped rapidly 
away. 

1 must be very weak still, he muttered as he went now 
right up to the entrance, and after peering cautiously in for a 
moment or two he entered. , 

It was dim outside in the forest; here, after picking his way 
cautiously for a step or two, it was nearly black. The place 
had probably been fairly lighted when it was first constructed, 
far back in the dim past before the forest invaded the district 
and hid away these works of man; but now the greatest cau- 
tion was needed to avoid the fallen blocks of masonry, and the 
explorer took step after step with the care of one who dreaded 
some chasm in his way. 

He stopped and listened, for suddenly from his left there 
was a faint echoing splash so small and fine that it must have 
been caused by the drip of a bead of water from the roof, bul 
it had fallen deep down into some dark hollow half filled with 
water, and a shiver ran through Humphrey's frame as he 
thought of the consequences of a slip into such a place, far 
from help, and doomed to struggle for a few minutes grasping 
at the dripping stony walls, seeking a means of- climbing out, 
and then falling back into the darkness of the great unknown. 


174 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


He felt as if he must turn back, but his eyes were now 
growing accustomed to the obscurity, and he made out that 
Just in front there was, faintly marked out, the opening of a 
door- way leading into a chamber into which some faint light 
penetrated. 

Going cautiously forward, he entered, to find to his astonish- 
ment that he was in a fair-sized room whose stone walls were 
elaborately carved, as were the dark recesses or niches all 
around, before each of which sat, cross-legged, a well-carved 
image which seemed to be richly ornamented in imitation of 
its old highly decorated dress. For a moment in the obscurity 
it seemed as if he had penetrated into the abode of the ancient 
people who had built the ruined city, and that here they were 
seated around in solemn conclave to discuss some matter con- 
nected with the long low form lying upon the skin-spread 
floor, while to make the scene the more incongruous, these 
strangely carved figures were looking down upon the object, 
which was carefully draped with a laft’ge Union Jack. 

Humphrey paused just inside the threshold and removed his 
cap, for Sarah Greenheys^s words recurred to him, and it 
seemed that he must have strayed into one of the many old 
temples of the place which had been turned by Commodore 
Junk into a mausoleum for the remains of the woman he was 
said to have loved, the draped object being without doubt the 
coffin which held her remains. 

He stood gazing down at the colored flag for a time; then 
with a glance round at the old idols or effigies of the depart- 
ed great of the place, and the dark niches at the mouths of 
which they sat, he went softly out, glanced to his right, and 
saw an opening which evidently gave upon the chasm where 
he had heard the water drip, and stepped out once more into 
the comparative daylight of the forest. 

The place might be used as a retreat, he thought, but its 
present use was plain enough, and he walked quickly back to 
where the path had branched, and took the other fork. 

This narrow tunnel through the forest suddenly debouched 
upon another going across it at right angles, and after a me- 
mentos hesitation the prisoner turned to the left, and to his 
great delight found that he had solved one of the topographical 
problems of the place, for this led toward what was evidently 
the outer part of the buccaneersO settlement, and of this he 
had proof by hearing the smothered sound of voices, which be- 
came clear as he proceeded, and at last were plainly to be 
made out as coming from a ruined building standing upon a 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


175 ' 


terrace whose stones were lifted in all directions by the growth 
around. 

This place had been made open by the liberal use of the ax 
and fire, half-burned trunks and charred roots of trees lying in 
all directions, the consequence being that Humphrey had to 
stop short at the mouth of the forest path unless he wanted to 
be seen. For, to judge from the eager talking, it was evident 
that a number of naen were gathered in the great building at 
whose doorless opening the back of one of the buccaneers could 
be seen as he leaned against the stone, listening to some one 
who, in a hoarse voice which the listener seemed to recognize, 
was haranguing the rest. 

Humphrey could not hear all that was said, but a word fell 
upon his ear from time to time, and as he pieced these words* 
together it seemed as if the speaker were declaiming against 
tyranny and oppression, and calling upon his hearers to help 
him to put an end to the state of affairs existing. 

Then came an excited outburst, as the speaker must have 
turned his face toward the door, for these words came plainly : 

“ The end of it will be that theyTl escape, and bring a man- 
of-war down upon us, and all through his fooling. 

A murmur arose. 

“ He^s gone mad, I tell you all; and if you like to choose a 
captain for yourselves, choose one, and Ifil follow him like a 
man; but ik’s time something was done if we want to live.^^ 

Another burst of murmurs rose here. 

He^s mad, I tell you, or he wouldnT keep him like that. 
So what^s it to be, my lads, a new captain or the yard-arm?^ ^ 


CHAPTEE XXVII. 

DINNY CONSENTS. 

The time glided on, and Humphrey always knew when his 
captor was at sea, for the severity of his imprisonment was 
then most felt. The lieutenant, Mazzard, was always left in 
charge of the place, Bart remained behind by the captain^'s 
orders, and at these times Humphrey was sternly ordered to 
keep to his prison. 

Hinny came and went, but, try him how he would, Hum- 
phi:ey could get nothing from him for days and days. 

The tide turned at last. 

Well, sor,^"* said Hinny one morning, ‘‘ Vyb been thinking 
it over a great dale. 1 donT like desarting the captain, who 
has been like a brother to me; but there's Misthress Green- 
heys, and love's a wonderful excuse for a many things, '' 


176 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ Yes/"' said Humphrey, eagerly, ‘‘ go on.^' 

“ Sure, sor, she^s compelled to be married like to a man she 
hates, and it hurts her falings as much as it does mine, and 
she wants me to get her away and make a rale marriage of it, 
such as a respectable woman likes; for ye see, all against her 
will, she^s obliged to be Misthress Mazzard now, and there 
hasn^t been any praste.'’^ 

“ I understand, said Humphrey. The scoundrel 
Well, yes, sir, that^s what he is; but by the same token I 
donT wonder at it, for if a man stood bechuckst good, and 
avil and Misthress Greenheys was on the avil side, faix, heM 
be sure to go toward the avil — at laste, he would if he was an 
Oirishman. 

“ Then you will?^^ 

“ Yis, sor, for the lady's sake; but 1 shall have to give up 
my share of the good things here, and behave very badly to 
the captain. " 

“ My good fellow, I will provide for you for life. " 

“ That's moighty kind of you, sor, and I thank ye. Yis, 
I'll do it, 'for, ye see, though 1 don't want to behave badly to 
the captain. Black Mazzard's too much for me; and besides, I 
kape thinking that if, some day or another, 1 do mate wid an 
accident and get dancing on the toight-rope, I sha'n't have a 
chance of wedding the widdy Greenheys, and that would be a 
terrible disappointment to the poor darlin'." 

‘‘Yes, yes," cried Humphrey, impatiently. “Then tell 
me. You will help me by getting a boat ready, and we can 
all go down together and put to sea!^' 

“ Hark at him!" said Dinny, with a laugh, after going to 
the great curtain and peering into the corridor. “ Ye spake, 
sor, like a gintleman coming out of his house and calling for a 
kyar. Lave that all to me. " 

“ 1 will, Dinny; but what do you propose doing, and 
when?" 

“ What do I propose doing, sor? Oh! it's all settled. The 
darlin' put an idee in my head, and it's tuk root like a seed. " 

“Trust a woman for Ingenuity!" cried Humphrey, speak- 
ing with the authority of one who knew, though as to women's 
ways he was a child. 

“ Ah, an' she's a diver one, sor!" ^ 

“ Well, what is it, Dinny?" cried Humphrey, excitedly. 

“ Be aisy, sor, and lave it to us. The darlin' has set her 
moind on getting away from Black Mazzard, and she's too 
gintle a creature to go to extremities and tak' his head off some 
night like the lady did in the tint, or to handle a hammer and 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


177 


a nail and fiK his head to the ground. She don^t like to be 
too hard upon him, sor, so she proposed a plan to me, and it 
will be all right/ ^ 

“ But, Dinny — 

Be aisy, sor, or ye’ll spoil all. Jist wait quite riddy like, 
till some avening I shall come to ye all in a hurry, hold up me 
little finger to ye, which will mane come, and ye’ll foind it all 
cut and dhried for ye. ” 

“ But, my good fellow—” 

“ Faix, sor, don’t go on like that before I’ve done. I want 
to say that ye must be at home here riddy. If the shkipper 
asks ye to dinner, don’t go; and if ye hear a big, powerful 
noise, don’t git running out to see what it is, but go on aisy 
like, saying to yerself, ‘ Dinny ’s getting riddy for me, and he 
may come at anny time.” 

And are you going to keep me in the dark?” 

“ An’ he calls it kaping him in the dark! Ah, well, sor, I 
won’t do that! I’ll jest tell ye, thin. Ye know the owld 
chapel place?” 

Chapel?” 

Well, church, thin, sor. That’s what they say it was. 
The little wan wid the stone picture of the owld gintleman sit- 
ting over the door. 

That square temple?” 

Yis, sor. It’s all the same. The haythens who lived out 
here didn’t know any betther, and the prastes were a bad lot, 
so they used to worship the owld gintleman, and give him a 
prisoner ivery now and then cut up aloive.” 

“ Nonsense! How do you know that?” 

Faix, it’s written on the. stones' so; and we found them 
althars wid places for the blood to run, and knives made out 
of flint-glass. It’s thrue enough.” 

. “ But what about the temple?” 

“ Sure, it is the divil’s temple, sor,” said Dinny, with a 
twinkle of the eye; “ and the shkipper said it was just the place 
for it, so he fills it full of our divil’s dust.” 

‘‘Money?” 

“ An’ is it money? That’s all safe in another place, wid 
silver and gowld bars from the mines, as we tuk in ships, and 
gowld cups, sor. That’s put away safe, for it’s no use here, 
where there isn’t a whisky-shop to go and spend it. No, sir; 
divil’s dust, the black gunpowdher.” 

“ Oh, the magazine! Well, what of that?” 

“ Sure, sor, the darlin’ put her pretty little lips close to my 
ear. ‘ Och, darlin’, and loight of my ois,’ I says. ‘ Sure, it’s 


178 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


SO dark in the wood here that yeVe made a mistake. That^s 
me ear, darling and not me mouth. Let me show ye — 
^No, Dinny,^ she says, ‘I’m like being another man’s wife 
now, and 1 can foind me way to yer lips whether it’s dark or 
light when it’s proper and dacent to do so, and we’ve been to 
church. ’ ” 

“ Dinny, you’ll drive me mad!” cried Humphrey, impa- 
tiently. 

“ An’ is it dhrive ye mad, when I’m thrying to set ye 
right? Then I’d betther not tell ye, sor.” 

“ Yes, yes! For goodness’ sake, man, go on.” 

“Ah, well, thin, an’ I will! She jist puts her lips to my 
ear and she says, ‘ Dinny, if ye lay a tlirain from the powdher- 
magazine ’ — think of that, now, the darlin’! — ‘ lay a thrain,’ 
she says, ‘ Dinny, and put a slow-match, same as ye have 
riddy for firing the big guns, and then be sure, ’ she says, ‘ and 
get out of the way ’ — as if I’d want to shtay, sor, and be sent 
to hiven in a hurry — ‘ thin,’ she says, ‘ the whole place will be 
blown up, and iverybody will be running to see what’s the 
matther and put out the fire, and they’ll be so busy wid that, 
they’ll forget about the prishner, and we can go down to the 
say and get away.’ ” 

“Yes,” said Humphrey, thoughtfully. “Is there much 
powder stored there?” 

“ Yis, sor, a dale. Ivery time a ship’s been tuk all the 
powdher has been brought ashore and put there. It’s a foin 
plan, sor, and all made out of the darlin’s own head. ” 

“Yes, Dinny, we ought to get away then.” 

“ Sure, an’ we will, sor. I’ll have a boat wid plenty of 
wather and sun-dhried mate in her, and some fruit and fish- 
ing-lines. We shall do; but the plan isn’t perfect yet.” 

“Why?” 

“ Sure, an’ there’s no arrangement for getting Black Maz- 
zard to come that time to count over the powdher-barrels. ” 

“ What! and blow the scoundrel up?” 

“ Sure, sir, and it would be a kindness to him. He’s the 
wickedest divil that ever breathed, and he gets worse ivery day, 
so wouldn’t it be a kindness to try and send hiha to heaven be- 
fore he gets too bad to go? But whist! I’ve stopped too 
long, sor. D’ye understand?” 

“ Dinny, get me away from here, and you’re a made man!” 

“ Faix, I dunno, sor. Mebbe there’ll be one lot’ll want to 
shoot me for a desarter — though I desarted by force — and an- 
other lot’ll want to hang me for a pirate. I don’t fale at all 
safe; but I know I shall be tuk- and done for some day if I 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


179 


shtop, and as the darlin^ says sh,e’ll niver make a mistake the 
right way wid her lips till IVe taken her from Black Mazzard, 
why, 1^11 do th^ thrick.'^'’ 

More days passed, and every stroll outside his prison had to 
be taken by Humphrey with Bart as clo^ to him as his shadow. 

Dinny kept away again, and the plan to escape might as well 
have never been uttered. 

Bart always went well armed with his prisoner, and seemed 
unusually suspicious, as if fearing an attempt at escape. 

Dinny's little widow came no more, and the hours grew so 
irksome with the confinement consequent upon the captain's 
absence that Humphrey longed for his return. 

He debated again and again all he had heard, and came to 
the conclusion that if he said anything it must be to the cap- 
tain himself. 

One morning Bart's manner showed that something had oc- 
curred. His sour face wore a smile, and he was evidently 
greatly relieved of his responsibility as he said to the prisoner: 

“ There, you can go out." 

“ Has the captain returned?" 

Bart delivered himself of a short nod. 

“ Tell him I wish to see him. Bid him come here." 

“What! the skipper? You mean, ask him if I may take 
you to him, and he'll see you. " 

“ I said. Tell your skipper to come here!" said Humphrey, 
drawing himself up and speaking as if he were on the quarter- 
deck. “ Tell him I wish to see him at once." 

Bart drew a long breath, and wrinkled up his forehead so 
that it seemed as if he had an enormous weight upon his 
head. Then, smiling grimly, he slowly left the place. 

The buccaneer, who looked anxious and dispirited, was listen- 
ing to some complaint made by his lieutenant, and angry words 
were passing which made Bart as he heard them hasten his 
steps, and look sharply from one to the other as he entered. 

Black Mazzard did what was a work of supererogation as he 
encountered Bart's eye — he scowled, his face being villainous 
enough without. 

“ Well," he said aloud, “ I've warned you!" and he strode 
out of the old temple chamber which formed the captain's 
quarters, his heavy boots thrust down about his ankles sound- 
ing dull on the thick rugs spread over the worn stones, and 
then clattering loudly as he stepped dutside. 

“ You two been quarreling?" said Bart, sharply. 

“ The dog's insolence is woi’se than ever!" cried the cap- 


180 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


tain, with flashing eyes. “ Bart, 1 don^t want to shed the 
blood of the man who has been my officer, but — 

“ Let some one else bleed him,'’^ growled Bart. “ Dick 
would; Dinny would give anything to do it.* Weh-e ’bout 
tired of him. I shoul(^like the job myself.” 

“Silence!” said the captain, sternly. “No, speak: tell 
me, what has been going on since I’ve been away?” 

“ Black Mazzard?” 

The captain nodded. 

“ Half the time — well, no: say three quarters — he’s been 
drunk, t’other quarter he’s spent in the south ruins preaching 
to the men.” 

“ Preaching?” 

“ Yes, with you for text. Just in his old way; but I’ve 
been too busy with the prisoner. ” 

“ Yes, and he?” 

“ It’s him who is master here. Here, get up!” 

The buccaneer started, threw back his head, and the dark 
eyes flashed as he exclaimed: 

“What’s this, sir? Have you been taking a lesson from 
Mazzard?” 

“ I? No; I’m only giving you your orders!” 

“ What orders?” 

“ Master Captain Humphrey Armstrong’s. You’re to get 
up and go directly. He wants you!” 

The buccaneer sprung to his feet. 

“ He wants me — he has sent for me?” he cried, eagerly. 

“Ay! You’re to go to him. He’s master here!” 

A dull lurid flush came over the captain’s swarthy face as 
his eyes encountered those of his henchman, and he frowned 
heavily. 

“ Of course you’ll go!” said Bart, bitterly. “ I should 
give up everything to him now, and let him do as he likes!” 

“Bart!” 

“ Oh, all right! Say what you like, I don’t mind. Only, 
if it’s to be so, let him hang me out of my inisery, and have 
done with it. ” 

The buccaneer turned upon him fiercely, and his lips parted 
to speak; but as he saw the misery and despair in Bart’s face 
his own softened. 

“ Is this my old friend and help speaking?” he said, softly. 
“ I did not expect it, Bart, from you. Why do you speak to 
me like this?” 

“ Because you are going wrong. Because I can see how 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


181 


things are going to be, and it’s natural for me to speak. Think 
Tm blind?” 

“No, Bart, old friend. I only think you exaggerate and 
form ideas that are not true. I know what you mean; but 
you forget that I am Commodore Junk, and so I shall be to 
the end. Now, tell me,” he continued, calmly; “ this cap- 
tain of the sloop asks to see me?” 

“ Orders you to come to him!” 

“ Well, he is accustomed to order, and illness has made him 
petulant. I will go. ” 

“ YouTl go?” 

“ Yes. Perhaps he has something to say in answer to an 
offer I made.” 

“ An offer?” 

“ Yes, Bart, to join us, and be one of my lieutQ|iants. ” 

“Join us, and be your lufftenant?” cried Bart. 

“Yes, my friend. I like him for the sake of his old gener- 
ous ways, and I like him for his present manliness. ” 

“ You — like him?” 

“Yes. It is not impossible, is it, that 1 should like to have 
a friend?” 

“Friend?” 

“ Yes!” said the captain, sternly; “ another friend! Don’t 
stare, man, and think of the past. Mary Dell died, and lies 
yonder in the old temple, covered by the Union Jack, and 
Abel Dell still lives — Commodore Junk, seeking to take venge- 
ance upon those who cut that young life short. ” 

“ Look here!” said Bart, who gasped as he listened to his 
companion’s wild utterances; “ are you going mad?” 

“ No, Bart, I am as sane as you.” 

“ But you said — ” 

“ What I chose to say, man. Let me believe all that if I 
like. Do you suppose I do not want some shield against the 
stings of my own thoughts? I choose to think all that, and it 
shall be so. You shall think it too. 1 am Commodore Junk, 
and if I wish this man to be my friend, and he consents, it 
shall be so!” 

“ And suppose some ddy natur’ says, ‘ I’m stronger than 
you, and I’ll have my way,’ what then?” 

“ I’ll prove to nature, Bart, that she lies, for she shall not 
have her way. If at any time I feel myself the weaker, there 
are my pistols; there is the sea; there is the great tank with 
its black waters deep down below the temple.” 

“ Are you going there — to him?” 

“ 1 am going there to him. Can you not trust me, Bart?” 


18 ^ 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


The poor fellow made a weary gesture with his hands, and 
then, as the captain drew himself up, looking supremely hand- 
some in his picturesque garb, and with his face flushed and 
brightened eyes, Bart followed him toward Humphrey's prison, 
walking at a distance, and with something of the manner of a 
faithful watch-dog who had been beaten heavily, but who had 
his duties to fulflll, and would do them fill he died. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ANOTHER DUEL. 

“ Is that his step? No; it’s that miserable jailer’s,” said 
Humphrey, as he lay back on his soft skin-covered couch with 
his arms beneath his head in a careless, indolent attitude. 

Humphrey was beginning to feel the thrill of returning 
strength in his veins, and it brought with it his old independ- 
ence of spirit and the memory that he had been trained to 
rule. His little episode with Bart that morning had roused 
him a little, and prepared him for his encounter with the buc- 
caneer captain, upon whom he felt he was about to confer a 
favor. 

A smile played about his lips as the step drew nearer, the 
difference between it and that of Bart being more and more 
marked as he listened, and then quite closed his eyes, while 
the heavy curtain was drawn aside, and the buccaneer entered 
the chamber. He took a step or two forward, which placed 
him in front of the stone idol, and there he stood gazing down 
at the handsome, manly flgure of his prisoner, whose un- 
studied attitude formed a picture in that weird, picturesque 
place which made the captain’s breath come and go a little 
more quickly, and a faint sensation of vertigo tempt him to 
turn and hurry away. 

The sensation was momentary. A frown puckered his 
brow, and he said, quietly: 

“Asleep?” 

“ No,” said Humphrey, opening his eyes slowly; “ no, my 
good fellow. I was only thinking. ” 

The buccaneer frowned a little more heavily as he listened 
to his prisoner’s cool, careless words, and felt the contemptu- 
ous tone in which he was addressed. 

“You sent for me,” he said, harshly, and his voice sounded 
coarse and rough. 

“ Well,” said Humphrey, with insolent contempt, “ how 
many ships have you plundered — how many throats have yoq 
cut this voyage?” 


COMMODOEE JUUTK. 


183 


The buccaneer's eyes seemed to flash as he took a step for- 
ward, and made an angry gesture. But he checked himself on 
the instant, and, with a faint smile, replied: 

Captain Armstrong is disposed to be merry. Why have 
you sent for me?" 

“ Merry!" said Humphrey, still ignoring the question; 
“ one need be, shut up in this tomb. Well, you are back 
again?" 

Yes, I am back again," said the buccaneer, smoothing his 
brow, and declining* to be angry with his prisoner for his in- 
sulting way as he still lay back on the couch. “ It is but the 
pecking of a prisoned bird," he said to himself. 

“ And not been caught and hanged yet? I was in hope that 
I had sQen the last of you." 

“ I have heard tell before of prisoners reviling their cap- 
tors," said the buccaneer, quietly. 

‘‘ Eevile! Well, is it not your portion?" 

‘‘ For treating you with the consideration due to a gentle- 
man?" said the buccaneer, whose features grew more calm 
and whose eyes brightened as if from satisfaction at finding 
the prisoner so cool and daring, and in how little account he 
was held. I have given orders that the prisoner should be 
treated well. Is there anything more 1 can do?" 

The harsh, grating voice had grown soft, deep, rich, and 
mellow, while the dark, flashing eyes seemed to have become 
dreamy as they rested upon the prisoner's handsome, defiant 
face. 

‘‘ Yes," said Humphrey, bitterly; “ give me my liberty." 

The buccaneer shook his head. 

Curse you! No; you profess to serve me — to treat me 
well — and you keep me here barred up like some wild beast 
whom you have caged. " 

Barred— cagedF' said the buccaneer, raising his eyebrows. 

You have freedom to wander where you will." 

Bah! freedom!" cried Humphrey, springing up. Curse 
you! why don't I strangle you where you stand?" 

At that moment there was a rustling among the leaves out- 
side the window, and Humphrey burst into a mocking laugh. 

“How brave!" he cried. “The buccaneer captain comes 
to see his unarmed prisonel*, and his guards wait outside the 
door-way, while another party stop by the window, ready to 
spring in." 

The buccaneer's face turned of a deep dull red — the glow of 
annoyance, as he strode to the window and exclaimed fiercely: 

“ Why are you here? Go!" 


184 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ Go, Bart,^^ said the buccaneer, more quietly. ‘‘ Captain 
Armstrong will not injure me.^’ 

There was a heavy rustling sound among the leaves and the 
buccaneer made as if to go to the great curtain; but he 
checked himself, turned, and smiling sadly: 

“ Captain Armstrong will believe me when I tell him that 
there is no one out there. Come, sir, you have sent for me. 
You have thought well upon all I said. All this has been so 
much angry petulance, and you are ready to take me by the 
hand — to become my friend. No, no; hear me. You do not 
think of what your life here may be. 

That of a pirate — a murderer cried Humphrey, scorn- 
fully. 

‘‘ No,^'’ said the buccaneer, flushing once more. I am 
rich. All that can be a something of the past. This land is 
mine, and here we can raise up a new nation, for my followers 
are devoted to me. Come! are we to be friends?’^ 

“ Friends!"^ cried Humphrey, scornfully — a new nation 
— your people devoted — why, man, I sent for you to warn 
you!"" 

“ You — to warn me?"" 

“ Yes. One of your followers is plotting against you. He 
has been addressing your men; and if you don"t take care, my 
good sir, you will be elevated over your people in a way more 
lofty than pleasant to the king of a new nation. "" 

I understand your sneers, sir,"" said the buccaneer, quiet- 
ly; and there was more sadness than anger in his tone. They 
are unworthy of the brave man who has warned me of a com- 
ing danger, and they are from your lips, sir, not from the 
heart of the brave adversary I have vowed to make my friend. ’" 

Humphrey winced, for the calm,' reproachful tone roused 
him, and he stood there frowning as the buccaneer went on. 

“As to the plotting against me, I am always prepared for 
that. A man in my position makes many enemies. Even 
you have yours. "" 

“ Yes — you,"" cried Humphrey. 

“No; I am a friend. There, I thank you for your warn- 
ing. It is a proof, though you do not know it, that the gap 
between us grows less. Some day. Captain Armstrong, you 
will take my hand. We shall be friends."" 

Humphrey remained silent as the buccaneer left the cham- 
ber, and, once more alone, the prisoner asked himself if this 
was true — that he had bidden farewell to civilization forever. 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


185 


and this was to be his home, this strange compound of savage 
fierceness and gentle friendliness his companion to the end? 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE ASSASSIKS. 

Humphrey Armstrong walked on blindly further and 
further into the forest, for he was moved more deeply than 
ever he had been moved before. The presence of this man 
was hateful to him, and yet he seemed to possess an influence 
that was inexplicable; and his soft, deep tones, which alter- 
nated with his harsher utterances, rang in his ears now he was 
away. 

^ “Good heavens!^’ he cried at last, as he nearly struck 
against one of the stone images which stood out almost as gray 
and green as the trees around, “ what an end to an officer's 
career — the lieutenant of a wretched pirate king! Hew na- 
tion! Bah! what madness !^^ 

“ Captivity has unmanned me,^^ he said to himself, as he 
sat down upon a mossy fragment of stone in the silent forest 
path, and the utter silence and calm seemed refreshing. 

He sat thus for some time, with his head resting upon his 
hand, gazing back along the narrow path, when, to his horror, 
just coming into view, he saw the figure of the buccaneer ap- 
proaching, with head bent and arms crossed over his chest, 
evidently deep in thought. 

Humphrey started up and backed away round a curve before 
turning, and walked swiftly alon^ the path, looking eagerly 
for a track by which he could avoid another encounter, when 
for the first time he became aware of the fact that he was in 
the way leading to the old temple which had been formed into 
a mausoleum, and, unless he should be able to find another 
path, bound for the ancient structure. 

He almost ran along the meandering path, feeling annoyed 
with himself the while, till the gloomy pile loomed before him, 
and he climbed up the door-way and looked back. 

All was silent and dim as he stooped and entered, stepping 
cautiously on, and then, as soon as well sheltered, turning to 
gaze back to see if the buccaneer came in sight. 

The place struck ohill and damp; there was a mysterious 
feeling of awe to oppress him as he recalled the chamber be- 
hind him, or rather, as he stood, upon his left; and its use, 
and the strange figures he had seen seated about, all added to 
the sense of awe and mystery by which he was surrounded; 


186 


COMMODORE JUl^K. 


while the feeling of annoyance that he should have shrunk 
from meeting this man increased. 

Just then there was the faint drip of water as he- had heard 
it before, followed by the whispering echoes; and, moved by 
the desire to know how near he was to what must be a deep, 
well-like chasm, he stooped, felt about him, and his hand en- 
countered a good-sized fragment of the stone carving which 
had moldered and been thrust by the root of some growing 
plant from the roof. 

He did not pause to think, but threw it from him, to hear 
it strike against stone. 

It had evidently missed what he intended, and he had turned 
to gaze again at the path, when he found that it had struck 
somewhere and rebounded, to fall with a hideous hollow echo- 
ing plash far below. 

Humphrey's brow grew damp as he listened to the strange 
whispers of the water; hnd then he looked once more at the 
path, wondering whether the horrible noise had been heard, 
for j ust then the buccaneer came into sight and walked slowly 
toward the old temple. 

But the echoes of that plash were too much shut up in the 
vast hollow below, and the buccaneer, still with his arms folded 
and chin resting uppn his chest, walked on, evidently to enter 
the old building. 

Humphrey hesitated for a moment, half intending to boldly 
meet his captor; but he shrunk from the encounter, and 
weakly backed away further into the darkness, till he was in 
the dim chamber where the coffin lay draped as before, and 
the strange figures of the old idols sat around. 

There was no time for further hesitation. He must either 
boldly meet the buccaneer or hide. 

He chose the latter course, glancing round for a moment, 
and then stepping cautiously into one of the recesses behind a 
sitting figure, where he could stand in complete darkness and 
wait till the buccaneer had gone. 

The latter entered the next moment, and Humphrey felt 
half mad with himself at his spy-like conduct, for as he saw 
dimly the figure enter, he heard a low, piteous moan, and saw 
him throw himself upon his knees beside the draped coffin, his 
hands clasped, and his frame bending with emotion, as in a 
broken voice he prayed aloud. 

His words were incoherent, and but few of the utterances 
reached the listening man's ears, as he bit his lips with anger, 
and then listened with wonder at what seemed a strange reve- 
lation of character. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


187 


Oh, give me strength!^'’ he murmured. ** I swore re- 
venge — on all — for the wrongs — for the death — loved — strength 
to fight down this weakness — to be — self — for strength — for 
strength — to live — revenge — death. 

The last word of these agonized utterances was still quiver- 
ing upon the air as if it had been torn from the speaker’s 
breast, when the dimly seen door-way was suddenly darkened, 
and there was a quick movement. 

Humphrey Armstrong’s position was one which enabled 
him, faint as was the light, to see everything — the draped 
coflSn, the kneeling figure bent over it prostrate in agony of 
spirit, and a great crouching form stealing softly behind as if 
gathering for a spring. 

Was it Bart? No; and the door-way was again darkened, 
and he saw that two more men were there. 

Friends? Attendants? No. There was the dull gleam of 
steel uplifted by the figure bending over the buccaneer. 

Assassination, without doubt. The moment of peril had 
come, lightly as it had been treated, and, stirred to the heart 
by the treachery and horror of the deed intended, Humphrey 
sprung from his place of concealment, struck the buccaneer’s 
assailant full in the chest, and they rolled over together on the 
temple floor. 

“ Quick, lads, help!” shouted the man whom Humphrey 
had seized, and his companions rushed in, for a general vielee 
to ensue at terrible disadvantage, for the assailants were armed 
with knives, and those they assailed defenseless as to weapons 
other than those nature had supplied. 

Humphrey knew this to his cost in the quick struggle which 
ensued. He had writhed round as he struggled with the 
would-be murderer, and contrived to get uppermost, when a 
keen sense of pain, as of a red-hot wire passing through one 
of his arms, made him loosen his hold for a moment, and the 
next he was dashed back. 

He sprung up, though, to seize his assailant, stung by the 
pain into a fit of savage rage, when, as he clasped an enemy, 
he found that it was not his first antagonist, but a lesser man, 
with whom he closed fiercely just as the fellow was striving to 
get out of the door-way — a purpose he effected, dragging 
Humphrey with him. 

The passage was darker than the inner temple, where hoarse 
panting and the sounds of contention were still going on, oaths, 
curses, and commands uttered in a savage voice to “ Give it 
him now!”— “ Now strike, you fool!” — Curse him, he’s like 

eel!” — and the like came confusedly through the door-way, 


188 


COMMODORE, JUKK. 


as, smarting with pain and grinding his teeth with rage, Hum- 
phrey struggled on in the passage, savagely determined to re- 
tain this one a prisoner, as he fought to get the mastery of the 
knife. 

How it all occurred was more than he could afterward clear- 
ly arrange in his own mind; what he could recall was that the 
pain weakened him, and the man with whom he struggled 
wrenched his left arm free, snatched the knife he held from 
his right hand, and would have plunged it into Humphrey's 
breast had not the latter struck him a sharp blow upward in 
the face so vigorously that the knife fell tinkling on the 
ground, and the struggle was resumed upon more equal terms. 

It was a matter of less than a minute, during which Hum- 
phrey in his rage and pain fought less for life than to master 
his assailant and keep him a prisoner. They had been down 
twice, tripping over the stone-strewn pavement, and once 
Humphrey had been forced against the wall, but % a sudden 
spring he had driven his opponent backward, and they were 
struggling in the middle of the opening, when a wild shriek 
rang out from the inner temple — a cry which seemed to curdle 
the young officer's blood — and this was followed by a rush of 
some one escaping. 

His retreat was only witnessed by one, for the struggle was 
continued on the floor. The two adversaries, locked in a tight 
embrace, strove to reach their feet,- and, panting and weak, 
Humphrey had nearly succeeded in so doing, when his foe 
forced him backward, and he fell to cling to the rugged stone- 
work. 

For as he was driven back the flooring seemed to crumble 
away beneath his feet; there was a terrible jerk, and he found 
himself hanging by his hands, his enemy clinging to him still, 
and the weight upon his muscles seeming as if it would tear 
them apart. In the hurry and excitement Humphrey could 
hardly comprehend his position for the moment. The next 
he understood it too well, for the stone which had given way 
fell with a hideous echoing noise, which came from a terrible 
distance below. 

Almost in total darkness, his hands cramped into the in- 
terval between two masses of broken stone which formed part 
of the debris of the roof above, hanging over a hideous gulf 
at the full stretch of his arms, and with his adversary's hands 
fipd talon-like in garb and dress as he strove to clamber up 
him to the floor above. 

At every throe, as the man strove to grip Humphrey with 
his knees and climb up, some fragment of stone rushed down, 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


189 


to fall far beneath, splashing and echoing with a repetition of 
sounds that robbed him of such strength as remained to him, 
and a dreamy sensation came on apace. 

“It is the end/'’ thought Humphrey, for his fingers felt as 
if they were yielding, the chilling sensation of paralysis in- 
creased, and in another minute he knew that he must fall, 
when the grip upon him increased, and the man who clung 
uttered a hoarse yell for help. 

“Quick, for God^s sake! Quick!’’ he shrieked. “I’m 
letting go!” 

But at that instant something dark seemed to come between 
him and the gleaming wet stone away above him in the roof, 
and then there was quite an avalanche of small stqnes gliding 

by. 

It was the scoundrel’s companion come at the call for help, 
thought Humphrey; and he clung still in silence, wondering 
whether it was too late as his strained eyeballs glared upward. 

“ Where are you?” came in a husky voice. 

It was to save his life; but though Humphrey recognized 
the voice, he could not speak, for his tongue and throat were 
dry. 

“Are you here? Hold on!” cried the voice again; and 
then there was the sound of some one feeling about, but dis- 
lodging stones, which kept rattling down and splashing below. 

“ Where are you?” cried the voice above Humphrey; but 
still he could not reply. His hands were giving way, and he 
felt that his whole energy must be devoted to the one effort of 
clinging to the last ere he was plunged down into that awful 
gulf. 

But the man who clung to him heard the hoarsely whis- 
pered question, and broke out into a wild series of appeals for 
help — for mercy — for pity. 

“ For God’s sake, captain!” he yelled, “ save me— save me! 
It was Black Mazzard! He made me come! Do you hear? 
Help! I can’t hold no longer! I’m falling! Help! Curse 
you — help!” 

As these cries thrilled him through and through, Humphrey 
was conscious in the darkness that the hands he heard rustling 
above him and dislodging stones, every fall of which brought 
forth a shriek from the wretch below, suddenly touched his, 
and then, as if spasmodically, leaped to his wrists, round which 
they fastened with a grip like steel. 

To Humphrey Armstrong it was all now like one hideous 
nightmare, during which he suffered, but could do nothing 
to free himself. The wretch’s shrieks were growing fainter, 


100 


COMMODOllE JUi^K. 


and he clung in an inert way now^ while some one seemed to 
be muttering above: 

“I can do nothing more! I can do nothing more!^^ but 
the grip about Humphrey's wrists tightened, and two arms 
rested upon his hands and seemed to press them closer to the 
stones to which they clung. 

“ Captain — captain! Are you there 

Yes,^^ came from close to Humphrey's face. 

“ Forgive me, skipper, and help me up! I'll be faithful to 
you! I'll kill Black Mazzard!" 

I can do nothing," said the buccaneer, hoarsely. “ You 
are beyond my reach. " 

Then go and fetch the lads and a rope. Don't let me fall 
into this cursed, watery hell!" 

“ If I quit my hold here, man, you will both go down; un- 
less help comes, nothing can be done." 

“ Then call help! Call help now, captain, and I'll be your 
slave! Curse him for leaving me here! Where's Joe Thorpe?" 

“ He was killed by Mazzard with a blow meant for me," 
said the buccaneer, slowly. 

‘‘Curse him! Curse him!" shrieked the man. “ Oh, cap- 
tain, save me, and I'll kill him for you. He wants to be skip- 
per; and I'll kill him for you if you'll only — Ah!" 

He utterd a despairing shriek, for as he spoke a sharp, tear- 
ing sound was heard; the cloth he clung to gave way. and be- 
fore he could get a fresh hold he was hanging suspended by the 
half-torn-off garb. He swung , to and fro as he uttered one 
cry, and then there was an awful silence, followed by a plunge 
far below. 

The water seemed to hiss and whisper and echo in all direc- 
tions, 'and the silence, for what seemed quite a long space, was 
awful. It was, however, but a few instants, and then there 
was a terrific splashing as if a number of horrible creatures had 
rushed to prey upon the fallen man, whose shrieks for help 
began once more. 

Appeals, curses, yells, piteous wails, followed each other in 
rapid succession as the water was beaten heavily. Then the 
cries were smothered, there was a gurgling sound^ and the 
water whispered and lapped and echoed as it seemed to play 
against the stony walls of the place. 

A few moments and the cries recommenced, and between 
every cry there was the hoarse panting of a swimmer fighting 
hard for his life as he struck out. 

The buccaneer's eyes stared wildly down into the great 
cenote, or water-tank, whose vast proportions were hidden in 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


m 


the gloom. He could see nothing; b*ut his imagination sup- 
plied the vacancy, and pictured before him the head and shoul- 
ders of his treacherous follower as he swam along the sides of 
the great gulf, striving to find a place to climb up; and this 
he did, for the hoarse panting and the cries ceased, and from 
the dripping and splashing it was evident that he had found 
some inequality in the wall, by means of which he climbed, 
with the water streaming from him. 

The task was laborious, but he drew himself up and up, 
climbing slowly, and then he suddenly ceased, uttered a ter- 
rible cry, and once more there was a splash, the lapping and 
whispering of the water, and silence. 

He was at the surface again, swimming hard in the darkness 
and striving once more to reach the place where he had 
climbed; but in the darkness he swam in quite a different 
direction, and his hoarse panting rose again, quick and agi- 
tated now, the strokes were taken more rapidly, and like a rat 
drowning in a tub of water, the miserable wretch toiled on, 
swimming more and more rapidly and clutching at the wall. 

Once an inequality gave him a few moments’ rest, and he 
clung desperately, uttering the most harrowing cries, but only 
to fall back with a heavy splash. Then he was up once more 
fighting for life, and the vast tank echoed with his gurgling 
appeals for help. 

Again they were silenced, and the water whispered and 
lapped and echoed. 

There was a splash, a hoarse gurgle, a beating of the water 
as a dog beats it before it sinks. 

Again silence and the whispering and lapping against the 
sides more faint; then a gurgling sound, the water beat once 
or twice, a fainter echo or two, and then what sounded like a 
sigh of relief, and a silence that was indeed the silence of 
death. 

Suddenly the silence in that darkness was broken, for a 
hoarse voice said: 

“ Climb up!” 

“Climb!” exclaimed Humphrey, who seemed to have re- 
covered his voice, while his frozen energies appeared to expand. 

“ Yes. Climb. 1 can hold you thus, but no more. Try 
and obtain a foothold.” 

Humphrey obeyed as one obeys who feels a stronger will 
acting upon him. 

“ Can you keep my hands fast?” he said. “ They are 
numbed.” 

“Yes. You shall not slip now. Climb.” 


192 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


Humphrey obeyed^ and placed his feet upon a projection; 
but it gave way, and a great stone forced from the wall by his 
weight fell down with a splash which roused the echoes once 
more. 

Humphrey felt half -paralyzed again; but the voice above 
was once more raised. 

“ Now,^'’ it said, “ there must be foothold in that spot 
where the stone fell. Try. 

The young officer obeyed, and rousing himself for a supreme 
effort as his last before complete inaction set in, he strove 
hard. The hands seemed like steel bands about his wrists, 
and his struggle sent the blood coursing once more through 
his nerveless arms. Then, with a perfect avalanche of stones 
falling from the crumbling side, he strove and strained, and, 
how he knew not, found foothold, drew himself up, and half 
crawling, half dragged by the buccaneer as he backed up the 
slope, reached the level part of the passage between the en- 
trance and the door-way of the inner temple, where he sub- 
sided on the stones, panting, exhausted, and with an icy feel- 
ing running through his nerves. 

“ Commodore Junk,^^ he whispered, hoarsely, as he lay in 
the semi-darkness, you have saved my life.^^ 

‘‘ As you saved mine.'’' 

Those two lay there in the gloomy passage listening to the 
solemn whisperings and lappings of the water, which seemed 
to be continued for an almost interminable time before they 
died out, and once more all was silent. But the expectancy 
remained. It seemed to both that at any moment the misera- 
ble would-be assassin might rise to the surface and shriek for 
help, or that perhaps he was still above water, clinging to the 
side of the cenote, paralyzed with fear, and that as soon as he 
recovered himself he would make the hideous gulf echo with 
his appeals. 

By degrees, though, as the heavy labored panting of their 
breasts ceased, and their hearts ceased beating so tumultuous- 
ly, a more matter-of-fact way of looking at their position came 
over them. 

“ Try if you can walk now,^^ said the buccaneer in a low 
voice. “ You will be better in your own place. 

“ Yes — soon,^^ replied Humphrey, abruptly; and once 
more there was silence, a silence broken at last by the buc- 
caneer. 

“ Captain Armstrong, he said, softly, at last, “ surely we 
can now be friends?^^ 

“ Friends? No! Why can we?^' cried Humphrey, angrily. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 193 

‘‘ Because I claim your life, the life that I saved, as mine — 
because I owe you mine!^^ 

“No, no! I tell you it is impossible! Enemies, sir, ene- 
mies to the bitter end. You forget why I came out here!^^ 

“ No,^^ said the buccaneer, sadly. “ You came to take my 
life — to destroy my people — but Fate said otherwise, and you 
became my prisoner — your life forfeited to me!^^ 

“ A life you dare not take!^' cried Humphrey, sternly. “ I 
am one of the king’s officers — your king’s men. ” 

“ I have no king!” 

“ Nonsense, man! You are a subject of his majesty King 
George. ” 

“No!” cried the buccaneer. “ When that monarch ceased 
to give his people the protection they asked, and cruelly and 
unjustly banished them across the seas for no greater crime 
than defending a sister’s honor from a villain, that king de- 
served no more obedience from those he wronged. ” 

“ The king — did this?” said Humphrey, wonderingly, as 
he gazed full in the speaker’s face, struggling the while to 
grasp the clews of something misty in his mind — a something 
which he felt he ought to know, and which escaped him all 
the while. 

“ The king! Well, no; but the people whom he intrusts 
with the care of his laws.” 

“ Stop!” cried Humphrey, raising himself upon one arm 
and gazing eagerly in the buccaneer’s face; “ a sister’s honor 
—defended — punished — sent away for that! No; it is impos- 
sible! Yes — ah! I know you now! Abel Dell!” 

The buccaneer shrunk back, gazing at him wildly. 

“ That is what always seemed struggling in my brain,” cried 
Humphrey, excitedly. “Of course, I know you now. And 
you were sent over here — a convict, and escaped. ” 

The buccaneer hesitated for a few moments, with the deep 
color going and coming in his face. 

“ Yes,” he said, at last. “ Abel Dell escaped from the 
dreary plantation where he labored. ” 

“ And his sister?” 

“ You remember her story?” 

“ Ke member! Yes,” cried Humphrey. “ She disappeared 
from near Dartmouth years ago.” 

“Yes.” 

“ What became of her — poor girl?” said Humphrey, ear- 
nestly; and the buccaneer’s cheeks colored as the woi-ds of pity 
fell. " 

“ She joined her brother out here.” 


194 


COMMODORD JUlfK. 


“ But he was a convict 

“ She helped him to escape. 

I see it all/' cried Humphrey, eagerly; and he became 
the pirate — and you became the pirate — the buccaneer. Com- 
modore Junk." 

‘‘Yes." 

“ Good heavens!" ejaculated Humphrey. “ And the sister 
— your sister, man — the handsome, dark-eyed girl whom my 
cousin — Oh, hang Cousin James! What a scoundrel he 
could be!" 

It was the sturdy, outspoken exclamation of an honest En- 
glish gentleman, and as the buccaneer heard it, Humphrey 
felt his hand seized in a firm grip, to be held for a few mo- 
ments and then dropped. 

“ But he's dead," continued Humphrey. “ Let him rest. 
But tell me — the sister — Oh!" 

A long look of apology and pity followed this ejaculation, as 
Humphrey recalled the scene in the temple, where the long 
coffin lay draped with the Union Jack — the anguish of the fig- 
ure on its knees, and the passionate words of adjuration and 
prayer. It was as if a veil which hid his companion's char- 
acter from him had been suddenly torn aside, and a look of 
sympathy beamed from his eyes as he stretched out his hand 
in a frank, manly fashion. 

“ I beg your pardon," he cried, softly. “ I did not know 
all this. I am sorry I have been so abrupt in what I said." 

“ I have nothing to forgive," said the buccaneer, warmly, 
and his swarthy cheeks glowed as Humphrey gazed earnestly 
in his eyes. 

“ And for the sake of brave Old Devon and home you 
spared my life and treated me as you have?" 

“Not for the sake of brave Old Devon," said the bucca- 
neer, gravely, “but for your own. Now, Captain Humphrey 
Armstrong, can we be friends?" 

“ Yes!" exclaimed Humphrey, eagerly, as he stretched out 
his hand. “ Nq!" he cried, letting it fall. “It is impossi- 
ble, sir. I have my duty to do to my king and those I've left 
at home. I am your prisoner; do with me as you please, for, 
as a gentleman, I tell you that what you ask is impossible. 
We are enemies, and I must escape. When I do escape my 
task begins again — to root out your nest of hornets. So for 
Heaven's sake, for the sake of what is past, the day I escape 
provide for your own safety; for my duty I most do!" 

“ Then you refuse me your friendship?" 


COMMODOKE JUNE. 


195 


Yes. 1 am your enemy, sworn to do a certain duty; but 
1 shall escape when the time has come. I can say no more.^^ 


CHAPTER XXX. 

HISTORY. 

“ No, sor,^^ said Dinny, one morning, “ the captain thought 
that as two of ^em had got their doses there ought to be no 
more killing. Eaix, he behaved like a lion when he came up 
that day. There was Black Mazzard and five-and-twenty 
more of ^em as had been overpersuaded by him, all shut up 
with plenty of fire-arms in the powdher magazine. ‘ DonT go 
nigh ^em — it^s madness,^ says the captain; but he goes into his 
place and comes out again with a couple of pishtols shtuck in 
Ids belt, and his best sword on — the one wid an edge as you 
could show to your beard and it would all come off at wanst, 
knowing as it was no use to mak^ a f oight of it again^ such a 
blade, as a strong beard will against a bad rashier. And then 
he sings out: ‘ Now, my lads, who's for me?' " 

“ And they all rushed to his aid?" said Humphrey. 

“ Well, you see, sor," said Hinny, “ it wasn't quite a rush. 
Lads don't go rushing into a powdher magazine when there's 
an ugly black divil inside as swears if annybody comes anigh, 
he'l] blow the whole place up into smithereens. " 

They never let him go alone?" cried Humphrey. 

“Well, no, sor," said Hinny; “it wasn't exackly alone, 
bekase old Bart ran up, and then two more walked up, and 
another wan wint up to him in a slow crawl that made me want 
to take him by the scruff o' the neck and the sate of his breeches, 
and pitch him down into that great hole yander, where that 
blagguard was drowned. ‘ Oh, ye cowardly cur!' I says to 
him, quite red-hot like, sor — ^ Oh, ye cowardly curl' I says, 

‘ you as was always boasting and bragging about and playing 
at Hector an' Archillus, and bouncing as if ye were a big an- 
cient foighting man, and ye go crawling up to yer captain 
that way?' And then he whispers to me confidential like, he 
does: ‘ Och, Hinny, owld lad!' he says, ‘it isn't the foighting 
I mind; but I'm thinking of my poor mother, 'he says. ‘ Ah, 
get out, ye coward!' I says; ‘ye're thinking of yerself.' 
°Hivil a bit!' he says; ‘ it's the powdher I'm thinking of. I'd 
f oight anny man, or anny two men in the camp; but I can't 
fale to care about an encounter wid tin tons o' divil's dust!' 
Oh, I did give it him, sor!" 

“ You had better have gone yourself than stood preaching 
to another," said Humphrey, indignantly. 


196 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


‘‘ That’s jist what I said to meself, sor/’ cried Dinny; 
‘‘ but the baste wouldn’t listen. ‘ Ochl’ he says, ' what would 
my mother’s falings be if she was to hear that instead of dying 
properly of a broken head she heard that I was blown all into 
smithereens, widout a dacent-sized pace left for the praste to 
say a blessing over?’ ' Ah, Dinny Kelly!’ I says, ' that’s a mane 
dirthy excuse, because ye’re afraid; for the divil a bit wud .your 
mother care what became of such an ill-looking, black buc- 
caneer of a blagguard as ye are!’ ” 

" Why, you’re talking about yourself!” cried Humphrey. 

" For sartin, sor. Sure, there isn’t another boy in the 
whole crew that I dare to spake to in such an onrespectful 
way. ” 

“ Why, Dinny, man, you did go?” 

" Yes, sor, I wint, but in a way that I’m quite ashamed of. 
I didn’t think I was such a coward. But there! 1 niver 
turned back from a shtick in my loife, and I faced the pow- 
dher afther all; but oh, it’s ashamed of myself intirely I am! 
A Kelly wouldn’t have felt like that if it hadn’t been for the 
climate. It’s the hot weather takes it out of ye, sor. Why, I 
felt over that job as a man couldn’t fale in me own counthry. ” 

” Well, go on.” 

“ That’s what I did, sor. I stuck close to the captain’s tail 
as he wint sthraight up to the door — ye know the door, sor, 
where the owld gintleman’s sitting over the porch, looking 
down at ye wid a plisant smile of his own.” 

“ Yes, yes, I know. Go on. ” 

" Well, sor, I did go on; and there stood Black Mazzard 
wid the three biggest pishtols we have on the primises, wan in 
each hand and the other shtuck in his belt. ' Kim another 
shtep,’he says, ‘and I’ll blow the place about your heads!’ 
Och, and I looked up thin to ask a blessing on meself before I 
wint up in such a hurry that I hadn’t time to confess; and 
bedad there was the old gintleman expanding his mouth into 
the widest grin I iver saw in me life!” 

“ And the commodore, what did he do?” cried Humphrey, 
impatiently. 

“ What did he do?” 

“ Yes — draw his men off?” 

“ Faix, he drew Black Mazzard’s blood off, for he wint 
shtraight at him, knocking one pishtol up in the air wid his 
hand as he did so. I niver saw annything so, nate in me loife, 
sor. I told ye he’d got his best sword on — the sharp one. ” 

“ Yes, yes!” 

Well, sor, he seemed just to lift it up and howld it for- 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


197 


ninst him, as I’m howlding this knife — s(u and it wint right 
through Black Mazzard just bechuckst hil shoulder and his 
neck; and as he pulls it out he takes him by the collar and 
drags him down upon his knees. 

“ ‘ Come out, ye mad-brained idiots!' he shouts at the lads 
inside — ‘ come out, or I’ll fire the powdher meself I’ 

‘‘ Bedad, sor, ye might have heard a pin dhrop if there’d 
bin wan there, but there wasn’t; and we heard Black Maz- 
zard ’s pishtol dhrop instead — the big one being on the pave- 
mint, when it wint off bang and shot a corner off a big shtone. 
But nobody came from inside the magazine; and the owld gin- 
tleman grinned more and more, and seemed to rowl his oies; 
and I belave he wanted to hear the old place go up. And 
there you could hear thim inside buzzing about like my 
mother’s bees in the sthraw hoive, when ye give it a larrup on 
the top wid a shtick.” 

Dinny gave his head a nod, and went on. 

‘‘That roused up the captain, and he roars out, ‘ Here, 
Dinny — Dick — Bart,’ he says, ‘ go in and fetch out these 
idiots. And I shpat in me fist, and ran in wid the other two. 
‘ Now, Dinny, my lad,’ I says to meself, ‘ if ye’re blown up 
it’ll be bad for ye, but ye’ll be blown up toward heaven, and 
that’s a 4ale better than being blown down. And avore 1 
knew where I was, I was right in among the lads, about foive- 
and-twenty of them; and then talk about a foight, sir! Ah, 
musha, it was awful!” 

“ Did they make such a desperate defense?” 

“ Deshperate, sor! Oh, that don’t describe it! Bedad, I 
niver saw anything like it in me loife!” 

“Were there many killed? Were you wounded?” 

“Killed! Wounded! Did ye iver see a flock o’ sheep when 
a big dog goes at ’em, sor?” 

“ Of ten, in Devon. ” 

“ Ah, then it’s the sanie as it would be in Oireland. Bedad, 
sor, the name of the captain, and seeing Black Mazzard tuk, 
was enough. They all walked out and pitched their swords 
and pishtols down in a hape before the shkipper and then 
stands in a row like sodgers; sure and it’s meself that had 
some of the drilling of them. 

“ ‘ Come here, Bart,’ says the shkipper then; and as Bart 
goes up, the captain gives Black Mazzard a shove like and 
throws him down. ‘ Here,’ he says, ‘ put your foot on this 
dog’s throat.’ Bart had it there before ye knew where ye 
where, and thin if the shkipper didn’t go right up to the row of 
min and walks slowly along ’em, looking ^em wan by wan in 


198 


COMMODORE JUIsK. 


the face wid his dark oi, sor. And he made ^em turn white 
and shiver, he did, sor, till he’d looked ’em all down, and thin 
he shteps out, little shtiff fellow as he is, and he says: 

‘ You fools, to be led away by a thing like that! How 
shall I punish ’em, llinny?’ he says, turning to me. 

“ ‘ Sure, captain,’ I says, ‘ they are all shtanding nate and 
handy, and if ye give me word. I’ll shtand at wan ind and 
send a bullet through the lot, and there’ll be no waste.’ 

“ ‘ Pah!’ he says, ‘ I don’t make war on the lads who’ve 
fought by my side. Go back to your quarthers,’ he says, 
‘ and if ye turn again’ me once more I’ll give ye such a pun- 
ishment as ye disarve. You shall have your Captain Maz- 
zard. ’ 

“ ‘D’ye hear that, ye divils?’ I says, for I couldn’t stop 
meself, sor; and they give three cheers for the captain and 
wint off to quarthers; and that was all.” 

“ But Mazzard — what of him?” 

“ Oh, he’s put away in as nice and plisant a place as a gin- 
tleman could wish to have, sor. It’s cool, and undherground, 
and the only way to it is down through a hole in a stone like 
Father 0 ’Grady’s well, and Bart fades him wid food at the ind 
of a long shtick. He’s safe enough now. But sure and the 
best thing for every one would be for him to doi by accident 
through Bart forgetting to take him his mate.” 

“ Starve him to death!” cried Humphrey. 

“ Faix, no, not a bit of it, sor. He’s a bad one anny way. 
and if he died like a sparrow in a cage, sure it would be a 
blessing for all of us.” 

“ And the Widow Greenheys, Dinny?” 

“ Whisht! be aisy, sor, wid a lady’s name.” 

“ Dinny,” cried Humphrey, sternly, “ how long are you 
going to play fast and loose with me?” 

“ An’ is it me ye mane? Sure I couldn’t do it, sor.” 

“ Dinny, now is the time to escape, now that Mistress 
Greenheys is safe from the persecution of that scoundrel.” 

“ Oh, whisht, sir! whisht! Sure and I’ve grown shtrong 
again, and ye want to timpt me from the ways of vartue.” 

“ Nonsense, man! Your plan — the explosion!” 

“ Oh, faix! It was only me fun. I couldn’t do such a 
thing.” 

“ Do you want that man to escape or be set free, and lay 
claim again to that poor little woman?” 

“ Oh, the poor little crathur! no.” 

“ Then help me to escape.” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


199 


“ Sure and ye^re good friends wid the shkipper and donH 
want to go, sor. 

‘‘ I must and will escape, Dinny, and you shall help me for 
Mistress Greenheys^s sake.^^ 

“ Ah, and it^s touching me on me soft place ye are,^^ said 
Dinny, pitifully. 

“ For her sake, I tell you, and you shall be happy with her 
at home. 

Sure an’ I haven’t got an ‘ at home,’ ” said Dinny. 

“ Then, as I promised you. I’ll make you one. Come, save 
her from that scoundrel.” 

Faix, an’ he is a blagguard anny way.” 

Who is?” said a deep voice. 

‘‘Yerself for wan,” said Dinny. “Sure, and Black Maz- 
zard another; and I’m telling the captain here that he needn’t 
grumble and call himself a prishner, for he’s rowling in com- 
fort; while as to Black Mazzard, ah, he should see his cell!” 

Bart scowled and stopped till Dinny had finished and gone, 
leaving the prisoner alone with his thoughts, which were of 
liberty. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE PLAN OP ESCAPE. 

Humphrey Armstrong sat gazing through the opening of 
his prison at the dark forest vistas and dreamed of England 
and its verdant fields and gold-cupped meadows. 

The whole business connected with the Dells came hack to 
him, and with it the figure of the handsome rustic fisher-girl 
standing as it were vividly before him, and with her his cousin, 
the cause of all the suffering. 

“ How strange it is,” he thought again, “ that I should be 
brought into contact with her brother like this! Poor fellow! 
more sinned against than sinning; and as for her — ” 

“ Poor girl!” 

There was a slight sound as of some one breathing hard, 
and the buccaneer stood before him. 

He smiled gravely, and held out his hand; but Humphrey 
did not take it, and they remained gazing at each other for 
some few minutes in silence. 

“ Have you thought better of my proposals, Captain Arm- 
strong?” said the buccaneer at last. “ Are we to be friends?” 

It is impossible, sir,” replied Humphrey, quietly. “ After 
what has passed I grieve to have to reject your advances; but 
you must see that it can never be. ” 


m 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


“ I can wait/' said the buccaneer, patiently. “ The time 
will come." 

Humphrey shook his head. 

“ Is there anything you want?" 

“ Yes," said Humphrey, sharply. ‘‘ Liberty." 

“ Take it. It is in my hand. " 

“ Liberty chained to you, sir! No. There, place me under 
no further obligations, sir. I will not fight against you; but 
pray understand that what you ask can never be." 

‘^I can wait," said the buccaneer again, quietly, as he let 
his eyes rest for a few moments upon his prisoner's face, and 
then left the room. 

Humphrey sprung up impatiently, and was about to pace 
the. chamber like a wild beast in a cage when he heard voices 
in the corridor, and directly after Hinny entered. The man 
looked troubled and stood listening, then he stole to the cur- 
tain and went down the corridor, to stay away for quite a quar- 
ter of an hour before he returned. 

“He’s gone, sor, safe enough. Taix, captain, dear, I fale 
as if I ought to be hung. ’’ 

“ Hung, Hinny?" 

“ Yes, sor, for threachery to as good a friend as I iver had. ’’ 

“ What do you mean. Hinny?" cried Humphrey, eagerly. 

“Mane, sor! Why, that all the grate min in the world, 
from Caesar down to Pater Honovan, have had their wake 
side. I’ve got mine, and I’m a fallen man." 

“ Speak out plainly,’’ cried Humphrey, flushing. 

“ That’s just what I’m doing, sor," said Hinny, with a soft 
smile. “ It’s nature, sor. She was bad enough, and thin you 
helped her. Oh, there’s no foighting agen it! It used to be 
so in Oireland. She says to the little birds in the spring — 
choose your partners, darlin’s, she says, and they chose ’em; 
and she said the same to human man, and he chooses his." 

“ Oh, Hinny, if you hadn’t quite such a long tongue!" cried 
Hun^hrey. 

“ Faix, it’s a regular sarpint, sor, for length, and just as 
desaving; but as I was saying, what Nature says in owld 
Oireland in the spring she says out here in this baste of a 
counthry where there’s nayther spring, summer, autumn, nor 
winther — nothing but a sort of moshposh of sunshine and 
howling thunder-storms." 

“ And—’’ 

“ Yis, sor, that’s it. I’m a fallen man." 

“ And will you really help me to escape?’’ 

“Whisht, sor! What are ye thinking about? Spaking 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


201 


aloud in a counthry where the parrots can talk like Christians 
and the threes is full of ugly little chaps, who sit and watch 
ye and say nothing, hut howld toight wid their tails, and thin 
go and whishper their saycrets to one another, and look as 
knowing as Barny Higginses pig/^ 

“ Dinny, will you speak sensibly?’^ 

“ Sinsibly! Why, what d’ye call this? Ar’n’t I tellin’ ye 
that it’s been too much for me wid Black Mazzard shut up in 
his cage and the purty widow free to do as she plases; and sure 
and she plases me, sor, and I’m a fallen man. ” 

“ You’ll help me?” 

Yis, sor, if ye’ll go down on your bended knees and take 
an oath.” 

“Oath! Whatoath.^^” 

“ Niver to bethray or take part in annything agen Commo- 
dore Junk, the thruest, bravest boy that iver stepped.” 

“You are right, Dinny. He is a brave man, and I swear 
that I will not betray or attack him, come what may. Get 
me my liberty and the liberty of my men, and I’ll be content. 
Stop! I can not go so far as that; there are my men. I swear 
that I will not attack your captain without giving him due 
notice, that he may escape; but this nest of hornets must be 
burned out and my men freed.” 

“ Ah, well, we won’t haggle about thrifles, sor. Swear this, 
sor: Ye’ll behave to the captain like a gintleman.” 

“ I swear I will.” 

“ Bedad, then, I’m wid ye; and there’s one more favor I’ll 
be asking ye*, sor. ” 

“ What is it?” 

“ Whin we get safe home' ye’ll come and give Misthress 
Greenheys away.” 

“ Yes, yes, Dinny. And now, tell me, what will you do?” 

“ Sure an’ there’s no betther way than I said before. I’ll 
have an oi on a boat, and see that there’s some^ wather and 
bishkits and a gun in her; and thin, sor. I’ll set light to the 
magazine, for it’ll be a rale plisure to blow up that owld gin- 
tleman as is always leering and grinning at me as much as to 
say, ‘ Cell, Dinny, ye divil, I know all about the widdy, and 
first time ye go to see her I’ll tell Black Mazzard, and then, 
’ware, hawk!’” 

“ But when shall you do this?” 

“ First toime it seems aisy, sor.” 

“ In the night?” 

“ Av coorse, sor. ” 

“ And how shall I know?’' 


20 % 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


Hark at that, now! Faix, ar’n^t I telling, ye, sor, that 1^11 
blow up the magazine? Sure ye don’t pay so much atten- 
tion to it when ye go to shleep that ye won’t hear that?” 

“ Of course I shall hear it,” said Humphrey, excitedly. 

“ Thin, that’s the signal, sor; and when it goes fizz, be 
riddy and wait till I kirn to ye, and thin good-bye to the 
rover’s loife, and Black Mazzard will see the daiiin’ no more. 
Whisht!” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE EXPLOSION. 

A FORTNIGHT passed, during which the buccaneer visited 
his prisoner twice, as if to give him an opportunity to speak, 
but each time in company with Bart. 

Both were very quiet and stern, and but few words were 
said. Everything was done to make the prisoner’s condition 
more endurable, but the attentions now were irksome; and 
though Humphrey Armstrong lay listening for footsteps with 
the greatest anxiety, those which came down the corridor were 
not those he wished to hear. 

At last, in the continuous absence of Dinny, he began to 
dread that the last conversation had been heard, and after 
fighting down the desire for a fortnight, he determined to risk 
exciting suspicion and ask Bart what had become of the Irish- 
man. 

Bart entered the. place soon after he had come to the deter- 
mination, bringing an Indian basket of fruit — the pleasant lit- 
tle grapes that grew wild in the sunny parts, and the succulent 
banana. These he placed upon the stone table in company 
with a bunch of flowers, where they looked like some offering 
made to the idol upon whose altar they had been placed. 

Humphrey hesitated with the words upon his lips, and 
checked himself. If Dinny had been overheard and were im- 
prisoned or watched, what good would he do? Better wait 
and bear the suspense. 

‘‘ Your gift?” he said, aloud, taking up the flowers and 
smelling them, for the soft delicate blooms of the forest orchids 
suggested a room in St. James’s Square and a daintily dressed 
lady who was bemoaning his absence. 

“Mine? Xo. The captain picked them himself,” said 
Bart, bitterly. 

Humphrey laid them down and took up one of the long, 
yellow-skinned fruits, Bart watching his action, regarding the 
fruit with jealous eyes. 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 


303 


Humphrey turned sharply round to hide his face from his 
jailor, for he had changed color. A spasm shot through him, 
and for the moment he felt as if he must betray himself, for 
as he turned over the banana in his fingers, they touched a 
roughening of the under part, and the next instant he saw that 
the fruit he held had been partly cut away with the point of a 
knife, so that a figure had been carved in the soft rind, and 
this could only have been the work of one hand, and intended 
as a signal to him that he was not forgotten. For the figure 
cut in the rind was that of a shamrock — a trefoil with its stalk. 

He hastily tore off the rind in tiny strips and ate the fruit, 
but the soft, creamy pulp seemed like ashes, and his throat 
was dry, as he completely destroyed all trace of the cutting on 
the rind and threw it aside. 

Noting that Bart was watching him narrowly, he hurriedly 
picked up one of the little bunches of grapes and began eating 
them as if suffering from thirst. Then forcing himself to ap- 
pear calm, he lay down upon the couch till Bart had finished 
his customary attentions and gone. 

Night at last — a moonless night — that would have been dusk 
on the open shore, but there in the forest beneath the inter- 
lacing trees it was absolutely black; and after watching at his 
window for hours, with every sense upon the strain, he reluc- 
tantly came to the conclusion that no attempt would be made. 
Hinny either not being prepared — though his signal seemed 
to be to indicate readiness — or the night, though suitable for 
concealment, being too obscure for hj^ purpose. 

“ One of them might have managed to come and give me a 
word,^^ he said, fretfully, as at last, weary of watching the 
scintillations of the fire-flies in a distant opening, he threw 
himself upon his couch to try and sleep, feeling that he would 
be wakeful all night, when all at once, just as he felt most 
troubled, his eyes closed, and he was deep in a dreamless sleep, 
lost to everything but the terrific roar which suddenly burst 
forth, following a vivid flash as of lightning, and, as confused 
and half stunned, Humphrey started up, all idea of the pro- 
posed escape seemed to have passed away, and he sat watching 
for the next flash, listening for the next peal, thinking that 
this was a most terrific storm. 

No flash — no peal — but a confused buzz of voices and the 
distant pattering of feet, while a dense, dank odor of exploded 
gunpowder penetrated the forest, and entered the window close 
to which the prisoner sat. 

“Hinny — the escape he cried, excitedly, as he sprung 
from his bed, for now a flash did come with dmost blinding 


( 


204 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


force; but it was a mental flash, which left him quivering with 
excitement, as he sprung to the curtained corridor and listened 
there. 

A step! Dinny’s. Yes, he knew it well! It was coming 
along the great stone passage! 

“ Quick! we shall easily get away, for they^ll all crowd 
about the captain, asking him what to do.^^ 

Dinny led on rapidly till they reached the turning in the 
direction of the old temple which contained the cenote. Here 
they struck off to the left, and found, as they cleared the nar- 
row forest path, that the odor of the exploded gunpowder was 
almost overpowering, 

Not a hundred yards away voices were heard speaking 
rapidly, and directly after they were silent, and the captain'’ s 
words rang out plainly as he gave orders to his people, though 
their import was not clear from the distance where the fugi- 
tives crept along by the edge of the ruins. 

“ Are you sure you are right?^^ whispered Humphrey. 

Eoight, sir; I niver was more so. Whisht! Are ye 
there 

“ Yes, yes,^^ came from down by the side of a great wall. 
‘‘ Oh, Dinny, 1 was afraid you were killed !^^ 

“ Kilt! Nay, my darling, there '’s a dale o^ life in me yet. 
Tak^ ho wit o’ me hand, one on each side, and walk quick and 
shteady, and I’ll have ye down by the say-shore, where the 
boat is waiting, before ye know where ye are. ” 

They started off at a sharp walk, pausing at times to listen 
to the jargon of excited voices behind, but rapidly advancing, 
on the whole, toward their goal. 

‘‘ Do — do you think we can escape?” said the woman, pant- 
ing with fear. 

“ An’ is it eshcape, whin the boat’s waiting, and everything 
riddy?” said Dinny, scornfully. “ D’ye hear her, sor? What 
a woman it is!” 

The woman sighed as if not hopeful, and Dinny added an 
encouraging word: 

“Sure* an’ the captain says he’ll tak’ care of us, darlin’, 
and avore long we’ll be sailing away over the salt say. It’s a 
white sail I’ve got in the boat, and — ” 

“ Hist, Dinny, you’re talking too loudly, my man!” whis- 
pered Humphrey. 

“ Bedad and I am, sor. It’s that owld sarpint of a tongue 
o’ mine. Bad luck to it for being given me wrong. Faix and 
it belonged to some woman by rights.” 


COMMODORE JUNK. 205 

They pressed on, and at the end of what seemed to he an 
interminably long time, Humphrey whispered; 

Are we near the sea?^^ 

“ Close to it now, sor. If it was Oireland ye’d hear the 
bating of the waves upon the shore; but they’re too hot and 
wake in this counthry to do more than give a bit of a lap on 
the sands. ” 

Another weary length of time passed, and still the sea-shore 
was not reached, but they were evidently near now, for the 
dull murmur of the billows in the sheltered gulf was plainly 
to be heard; and Mistress Creenheys, who, in spite of her 
bravery^ and decision, had begun to utter a low hysterical sob 
from time to time and hang more heavily upon her com- 
panions’ arms, took courage at the thought of the safety the 
sea offered, and pressed sturdily forward for another few hun- 
dred yards and then stopped short. 

‘‘ What is it, darlin’?” whispered Dinny. 

Voices!” she replied, softly. 

‘‘Yes; our own,” said Dinny. “There can’t be anny 
others here.” 

“ Hist!” ejaculated Humphrey. “ Is there any other way 
down to the beach?” 

“ Divil a bit, sor, that we could foind, and the boat’s yan- 
der, close inshore.” 

He took a step or two in advance, and listened. 

“ I am sure I heard whispering,” said Humphrey; but all 
was still now, and feeling satisfied at last that it was the mur- 
mur of the waves, they crept on in utter silence, and were 
about to leave the shelter of the path by which they had come 
and make for the open sand when Dinny checked his com- 
panions, and they all stood listening, for a voice that was fa- 
miliar said: 

“ The skipper’s full of fancies. He hasn’t been right since 
this captain was made prisoner, and he has been worse since 
the other prisoners escaped. ” 

“ Other prisoners! What prisoners?” thought Humphrey. 

“You hold your tongue!” growled the familiar voice of 
Bart. “ Do you want to scare them off?” 

“ Scare whom off?” 

“ Those who try to escape. Silence!” 

Mistress Greenheys reeled up against Humphrey and would 
have fallen but for his strong arm which encircled her, lifted 
her from the ground and held her firmly as he stepped softly 
back, followed by Dinny, who did not speak till they had 
reached the shelter of some trees. 


‘^06 


COMMODORE JUJfK. 


“ Look at that, now!^' he whispered out of the black dark- 
ness. “ Have ye got the darling safe?^'’ 

“ Yes, safe enough; but what does this mean?^'’ 

“ Mane, sor? Sure and it’s Bart yander wid two min.” 

Take us down to the sea by some other path.” 

“ Shure an’ don’t 1 tell ye there is no other path, sor? It’s 
the only way. Murther, look at that!” 

For at that moment a light flashed out and shimmered on 
the sea, sunk, rose, and .became brilliant, shining forth so that 
th§y could see that the three men down upon the shore had 
lighted a pile of some inflammable material, beyond which, 
floating easily upon the surface of the sea and apparently close 
inshore, was a boat — the boat that was to bear them safely 
away. 

They were sheltered by the trees, and besides, too far off to 
be seen by the men, whose acts, however, were plain enough 
to them, as one of them was seen to wade out to the boat, get 
hold of her mooring rope, and drag her ashore. 

“The murtherin’ villains!” muttered Dinny. “They’re 
takin’ out the sh tores. Look at that now! There’s the bar’l 
o’ wather and the bishkit, and now there’s the sail. What’ll 
1 do intoirely? My heart’s bruk wid ’em.” 

“ Hush, my lad! You’ll be heard,” whispered Humphrey, 
“ Is there no other boat we can get?” 

“ Divil a wan, sor, and if we shtay here we shall be tuk. 
What’ll we do now?” 

“ Make a bold fight for it, and take them by surprise. ” 

“ Wid a woman as wan of our min, sor! Sure an’ it would 
be a mad thrick. Wan of us would be sure to go down, you 
or me, even if we bate the divils. Look at ’em, the fire’s go- 
ing down, and they’re coming back!” 

Humphrey gave an angry stamp, for in her agony of dread 
Mistress Greenheys gave herself a wrest from his arm, and 
hurried back. 

“ What’s that?” whispered Dinny. 

“ Mistress Greenheys.” 

“ What? gone back, sor? Whisht! darlin’. StopI” 

If the woman heard his words they only added to her alarm, 
for she hurried on, apparently as well acquainted with the 
way back as Dinny, who immediately started in pursuit. 

“ What are you going to do?” whispered Humphrey. 

“ Do, sor? Go afther her.” 

“ No, no; we must escape now we’ve got so far.” 

“ Sure an’ we will, sor; but to go forward’s to go into 
prishn for you and to be dancing on nothmg for me. Come 


COMMODORE JUl^K. 


^07 


on, 8or. Let^s catch up to me poor freckened darling and 
then tak^ to the woods. 

They hurried back in pursuit of their companion, but fear 
had made her fleet of foot, and in spite of their efforts they 
did not overtake her. 

She^ll have gone back to her quarthers,'’’ said Dinny, dis- 
mally. “ Shall we go back to ours?^^ 

cried Humphrey, imperiously. ‘‘Good heavens, 
man! our absence has been found out before now. Let^s take 
to the woods or hide in one of the ruins till we can get away. 

“ Sure an^ ye’re roight, sor. They’ve been afther ye, av 
coorse, and I’ve been missed and can’t show meself ■ now wid- 
out being th rated as a thraitor. Will ye thrust to me, and I’ll 
find a place?” 

“ Trust you? — yes,” said Humphrey; “ but what do you pro- 
pose doing?” 

“ Doing, sor? Hoiding till we can find a chansh of getting 
away.’^ 

“ Where will you hide?” 

“Ye said ye’d thrust me, sor,” whispered Dinny. “ Come 
on.” 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

ON THE QUI VIVE. 

The buccaneer had sought the ruined temple that evening 
in lowness of spirit and utter despondency. The old daring 
spirit seemed to be departing, and supremacy over the men 
passing rapidly away, and he knew how they talked among 
themselves, consequent upon Mazzard’s teaching, of the grow- 
ing weakness of their commander. 

“And they’re right,” he said, bitterly. “I am losing 
power and strength, and growing more and more into the 
pitiful, weak creature they say. And yet how I have tried!” 

He sprung to his feet, for at that moment there was the re- 
flection of a flash which lighted up the interior of the old tem- 
ple, showing the weird figures sitting round as if watching him 
in his despondent mood. 

It was but momentary, and then came a crash as if heaven 
and earth had come together, followed by a long, muttering 
roar as the thunder of the explosion died away. 

The minute before the buccaneer'had been inert, despondent 
and hopeless. The knowledge of what must have taken place 
brought back his flagging energies, and with a great dread 
seeming to compress his heart that evil might have befallen 


208 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


his prisoner, he tore out of the dark temple, and as fast as the 
gloom of the winding path would allow him toward the old 
amphitheater. 

Haste and the excitement made his breathing labored as he 
strove to get on more rapidly, but only to be kept back by the 
maze-like paths, where he passed Humphrey and Hinny, and, 
gaining the open ground, dashed on to where his men were 
gathered. * 

Bart! quick he cried, as soon as he was convinced that 
no harm could have befallen his prisoner. Take men, and 
down the path to the shore. There will be an attempt to 
escape in the confusion, and theyTl make for the sea.'’^ 

Bart grasped the urgency of the case, called two men, and 
set off at a run, while Hinny was next summoned. 

“ Hah!^^ ejaculated the captain, drawing his breath between 
his teeth; “ a traitor in the camp!^'’ 

He called for lights, and went straight to the corridor, en- 
tered and walked down it to the chamber, tenanted now by the 
grim idol alone, and stood for a few moments looking round. 

‘‘ Well,^'’ he muttered, “ he will learn the truth of what I 
said. The firing of the powder must have been planned. 

He went back to where his men were waiting outside and 
walked through to the terrace above the pld amphitheater, to 
find that the magazine was completely swept away; but the 
darkness hid the shattered stones lying in all directions and 
the trees blasted and whitened and stripped of leaf and bark. 

My prisoner has escaped,’^ he said aloud. I think with 
the man who was his attendant, the Irishman, Hennis Kelly. 
Capture both; but no violence to either, on your lives. ” 

There was a low murmur either of assent or ‘Objection, and 
he was turning away when Hick, the sailor, came up. 

“ Gone!’"’ he said, laconically. 

“ Mazzard! Gone?^^ cried the buccaneer, excitedly. 

Yes; and the man who was on guard lying dead, crushed 
with a stone. 

“ From the explosion?’^ cried the buccaneer. 

“ From Black Mazzard ^s hands, replied Hick, stolidly. " 

“ Well,'’^ said the captain, drawing in his breath hard as he 
thought of the possibility of the escaped prisoners coming in 
contact, ‘‘ there will be two to capture when the day breaks. 
Ko one can get away. 

In an hour a messenger came from the sea in the shape of 
Bart, and he made his way to the captain^s side. 

“Well?^’ , ' - . 


C0M3J0D0RE JUNK. 


209 


You were right; they intended the sea;^^ and he explained 
about the boat. 

And yet you have come away?^^ 

“ Two men are watching/^ said Bart, stolidly. 

“ Bah! you must be mad.^^ 

And two planks are rifted out of the boat. It will take a 
carpenter to make her float. 

“ Bart, forgive me.^^ 

‘‘ Forgive you! Ah, yes! Iforgive.^^ 

“ I have need of aU your aid. Captain Armstrong has 
escaped. 

Not far. 

“No; but there is worse news. Mazzard has brained his 
keeper, and is at liberty. 

“ Hah!'’^ ejaculated Bart. 

“ And those two may meet.^^ 

“ Always of him,^^ muttered Bart, sadly. “ Well, skipper, 
what is it to be now, when he is captured 

“ Death. 

“ To Captain Armstrong?^^ 

“ Man, are you mad? Let Mazzard be taken, and that 
Irishman, too.^’ 

“ And— 

“ Silence, man! Let them be taken. I rule here.^^ 

Bart drew a long breath. 

“ Nothing can be done till daylight, except wait.^^ 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE SAFEST PLACE. 

“ No, no, man; make for the forest, whispered Humphrey, 
just at day-break, as Dinny began to take advantage of the 
coming light to seek a safe place of concealment. 

“ What for, sor? To get buried in threes that donT so 
much as grow a cabbage, where there^s no wather and no com- 
pany but monkeys and the shpotted tigers. Lave it to me, 
sor, and Ifll tak^ ye to a place where ye can lay shnug in hid- 
ing, and where may be I can get spache of the darling as the 
bastes freckenecl away. 

“ Where shall you go, then? Why not to that old temple 
where Mazzard made his attempt to kill the captain?^'’ 

“There, sor! Why, the captain would find us directly. 
You lave it to me. 

Humphrey would have taken to the forest without hesita- 
tion, but, worn out and suffering keenly from disappointment, 


21 ® 


COMMODORE JUl^K. 


he was in no humor to oppose, and, signifying his willingness, 
he followed the Irishman by devious ways in and out of the 
ruins for some time, till Diuny crouched down, and motioned 
to Humphrey to do the same. 

The place was such a chaos, and' so changed by the terrific 
force of the explosion that Humphrey had felt as if he were 
journeying along quite a new portion of the forest outskirts, 
till, as he obeyed his companion and they crouched down 
among some dense herbage, he stared with astonishment at 
the sight before him, a couple of hundred yards away. 

For there,, beyond one of the piles of crumbling ruins, was 
a perfectly familiar pathway, out of which he saw step into 
the broad sunshine the picturesque figure of the buccaneer 
captain, who strode toward a group of waiting men. 

A discussion seemed to take place, there were some sharp 
orders, and then the whole party disappeared. 

Why, Dinny, man, are you mad.^^^ whispered Humphrey. 
“ I trusted to you to take me to some place of hiding, and 
you\e brought me right into the lion^s den.^' 

Well, sor, and a mighty purty place too, so long as the 
lion’s not at home. Sure and ye just saw him go out.” 

“ But, Dinny — ” 

‘‘ Whisht! Don’t spake so loud, sor. Sure, now, if a can- 
non-ball made a hole in the side of a ship, isn’t that the safest 
place to put your head so as not to be hurt. They niver hit 
the same place twice. ” 

Then your hiding-place is my old lodging — my prison?” 

Av coorse it is! The skipper has been there to mak’ sure 
that ye are really gone; and now he knows, he’ll say to himself 
that this is the last place ye’d go and hide in; and troth, he’s 
quite roight, isn’t he?” 

Humphrey hesitated for a few moments, and then, feeling 
how true the man’s words were, he gave way. 

“ Sure, sor, and it’s all roight,” whispered Dinny. ‘‘ Ar’n’t 
I thrying to keep my head out of a noose, and d’ye think I’d 
be for coming here if it wasn’t the safest place. Come along; 
sure, it’s a lion’s den, as ye call it, and the best spot I know.” 

He whispered to Humphrey to follow cautiously, and crept 
on all-fours among the dense growth, and in and out among 
the loose stones at the very edge of the forest, till the tunnel- 
like pathway was reached in safety, when, after crawling a few 
yards out of the blinding sunshine into the shadowy gloom, 
Dinny rose to his feet. 

“ There, sor,” he said, we can walk like Christians, now, 
Rud not like animal bastes. There isn't a sound, " 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


211 


As he .spoke, there was a peculiar cry, and a gorgeously 
plumaged hird flitted into sight, and perched on a piece of 
stone in the sunny opening of the tunnel, where its scarlet 
breast and dazzling golden -green plumage glittered in the sun. 

“ Sure and ye^re a purty fowl, and I^m much obliged to ye 
for the information/^ said Dinny, as the bird erected its brill- 
iant crest, stared wildly, and then flew off with its long green 
tail-feathers streaming out behind. “ He says there^s nobody 
about, sor, or he wouldnH be here. Come along. 

It seemed like a dream to Humphrey after his sleepless 
night, to find himself once more in the gloomy corridor with 
the faint light streaming in at the side-openings, instead of in 
a boat, dancing over the blue waters and leaving the buc- 
caneer^'s nest behind. But it was the bare reality, as Hinny 
went forward, drew the great curtain aside, and he passed in 
and on frolto behind the great idol to throw himself, worn-out 
and exhausted, upon his couch of skins. 

“ Sure and I wouldn^t trate it like that, sor,^^ cried Dinny, 
cheerfully. ‘‘We have eshcaped, sor, though we haven '’t got 
away, and been obliged to come back again. 

“ Don^t talk folly, man. . 

“ An^ is it folly ye call it? Sure an^ we have eshcaped, or 
else why are they all in purshuit of us? We\e got away, and 
they fale it, and all that^s happened is that we did raclie the 
boat, but had to come back here for a rest till we were riddy 
to go on. Sure, sor, ye^re hungry. Ate some of the tortillas 
and drink some of the wine, and thin, if ye wou^’t think it 
presumption, 1^11 say — af ther you. 

“ Eat and drink, man! You must be faint. I have no ap- 
petite. 

“ Ah!'"’ ejaculated Dinny, after a pause of about a quarter 
of an hour, which he had bravely employed, “ there's noth- 
ing like food and dhrink, if it’s only potaties and butthermilk. 
Sure I’m ready for annything now, and so will ye. be, sor, as 
soon as the wine begins to work.” 

“ Dinny, I’m ready for anything now; but we can not stay 
here. ” 

“ Git up, sor, if ye wouldn’t moind,” said Dinny. 

Humphrey obeyed dejectedly as the man advanced. 

“ Sure, sor, and it’s a wondherful owld place this, and there 
must have been some strange games carried on. Now, sor, 
in all the months ye’ve been here, did ye iver look under the 
bed?” 

“ Under the bed, man?” cried Humphrey. “ Why, it is a 
huge block of stone. 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


^12 

“ Is it now, sor? Sure and didnH I help fit up the place 
for ye when ye first came, an^ by the captain’s orders? Sure 
and i know all about, it. ^ Dinny, me boy/ me mother used 
to say to me, ‘ ye haven’t got a watch, and ye’ve got no money, 
but ye may have both some day, so beware of thay ves and rob- 
bers; and whiniver ye go to slape in a sthrange place, be sure 
ye look under the bed.’ An’ yer mother niver gave you that 
advice, sor?” 

He walked to the couch and threw up the skins which 
covered it, revealing what seemed to be a low, square bench of 
stone, whose top was one enormous slab. 

“ Now, sor,” said Dinny, ‘‘ would ye moirid thrying to lift 
that?” 

Humphrey stepped quickly to his side, bent down, seized 
the projecting slab, tried to raise it, and then straightened 
himself and shook his head. 

‘‘ A dozen men could not raise it, Dinny,” he said. 

“ No, sor, but a Kelly can. Look here.” 

He bent down, placed his shoulder to one corner, gave it a 
thrust, and the whole top glided round as if on a pivot, and 
revealed an opennig dimly lighted apparently from below. 

“There, sor,” he said, “I dishcovered that by accident 
when I was here alone wan day. I pushed a big stone against 
that corner and it gave way, and when I pushed the whole 
place opened, and now there’s as good a hiding-place as a man 
need have.” 

“ Dinny,” cried Humphrey, excitedly, “ and doesn’t the 
captain know of this?” 

“ Sure and 1 think the last man who knew of it died before 
the fiood, sor, and it hasn’t been opened since. ” 

“ And these rough stairs — where do they lead?” 

“ Down into the cabin, sor, where there’s a little door out .! 
into the forest. Sure and the artful baste who made it little | 
thought he was going to find us as purty a hiding-place as was i 
iver made. There it is, sor, all ready for us if we hear any ■ 
one coming. If we do, down we go and twirl the lid of the % 
pot back over our heads, and then we can either go or shtay. ” f 

“ Can you move the cover when you are down?” 

“ Aisily, sor. I’ve thried it. Now, then, what do ye say < 
to that?” ] 

Humphrey’s answer was to hold out his hand and wring that jj 
of his companion. d 

There was an ample supply of food in the place for a week, I 
and water and wine. Dinny’s ideas respecting their safety J 
seemed to be quite correct, for though voices were heard at a | 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


213 


distance, no one approached the place. They had the hidden 
subterranean tomb-like chamber into which they could retreat; 
and on the second night, while Dinny was watching and Hum- 
phrey, utterly worn out, was sleeping feverishly and trying to 
lorget the troubles and disappointments of his failure, there 
was a faint rustling noise heard, and directly after his name 
was whispered softly from above. 

“ Murther!'^ cried Dinny, unable to contain himself as he 
sprung up. 

His exclamation and the noise he made brought Humphrey 
from his couch, alert, and ready for any struggle. 

‘‘ What is it?^^ he said. 

‘‘ Sure, sor, something freckened me. A mouse, I think. 

“ Dinny!^^ came in a reproachful voice from above. 

Mistress Greenheys!^^ cried Humphrey. “ You there?^^ 

“Yes. I came to try and learn tidings of you. I did not 
know you were both prisoners. 

“ Sure an^ we^re not, darlin,^^ said Dinny. “ We only tuk^ 
refuge here, so as to be near you. An^ where have you been?” 

“ I crept back to my place,” said the woman, “ and reached 
it without having been missed. ” 

“ Then ye^re quite free to come and go?^^ 

“ Yes — quite. ” 

Erin-go-hragh!*^ .cried Dinny, excitedly. “Then what 
yeVe got to do,^ darling, is to go back and come agen as soon 
as ye can wid something to ate, for we shall soon be starved.” 

Yes, Dinny; ITl come again to-night.” 

“ There's a darlin' for ye, sor. Hut tell us. What are 
they doing?” . 

“ Searching for you far and wide; and the captain is furious. 
He says he will have you found. ” 

“ And ye've been quite well, darlin'?” 

“ No, Dinny. I've been fretting to death to know what 
had become of you. ” 

“ Sure and I've been quite right, only I wanted to know 
about you. Nobody's middled wid ye, then?” 

“ No, Dinny — not yet.” 

“ Arrah, shpake out now, and say what ye mane wid your 
‘ not yet,' ” cried Dinny, angrily. 

“ Black Mazzard. ” 

“ Well, he's shut up.'' 

“ He escaped the same time that you did.” 

“ Eshcaped! Holy Moses!” 

“ That wretch free!” cried Humphrey. 

“Yes, sir.” 


214 


COMMODORE JtKK. 


Where is he?^' 

“No one knows, sir; but they have parties out searching 
for him and for you/^ 

“Oh! murther! murther!^^ groaned Dinny. “ My heart’s 
bruk entirely. What’ll I do at all? Shtop, darlin’; ye must 
come here.” 

“ Stop here, Dinny! Oh, no, I couldn’t!” said the woman, 
piteously. 

“ Sure no, and ye couldn’t,” said Dinny. “ It wouldn’t 
be dacent, darlin’, for ye’ve got a characther to lose. Cap- 
tain, dear, what’ll I do?” 

“We must wait, Dinny, and try to-night if we can not find 
a boat.” 

“ And lave that poor darlin’ to be freckened to de^th by 
that great black baste? Oh, captain, dear. I’ll have to go wid 
her and purtect her; and if I’m hung for it, why, I can’t help 
ib. 1 should have behaved like a man. ” 

“ Wait,. Dinny,” said the woman, cheerily. “ You keep in 
hiding for a day or two, dear. If Black Mazzard does come 
and try to get me away, I can but die. ” 

“ Sure, an’ what good’ll that do me?” cried Dinny. “ D’ye 
want to make me a widow, too?” 

“ Hush! You’re talking too loudly,” whispered the woman. 
“Good-bye! Next time I come I’ll bring food. Perhaps good 
news. ” 

“ No, no; don^t go yet, darlin’,” cried Dinny. “ She’s 
gone. Oh, murther, sor! What’ll I do? Can’t ye put me 
out of me misery at wanst?” 

Dinny calmed down at last, and Humphrey resumed his 
place upon the couch, which was arranged sb that at any mo- 
ment they might secure their retreat. But the night had not 
passed before the faithful little woman was back agOjin with 
such provisions as she could bring and lower down to them, 
for she would not hear of Dinny coming out, threatening to 
keep away if he ran any risk. 

This went on for two nights, during which time they had 
no alarm. Not a soul beside approached the place; and the 
same report was brought them that their hiding-place baffled 
all, but the captain was fiercely determined that the prisoners 
should be found. 

“ Then why not try to escape inland, Dinny?” said Hum- 
phrey, at last. “ Surely, it can not be impossible.” 

“ Haven’t we all thried it again and again wid the captain, 
sor?” said Dinny, in remonstrance. “ He set us all to work, 
so as to make sure that we couldn’t be attacked from the 


COMMODORE JUlfK. 


land; and ye can^t get in a mile anny where, for thick forest 
worked together like a powerful big hurdle that’s all solid, and 
beyaut that’s mountains — and burning mountains — and the 
dinl knows what I Sure, and ye can’t get that way at all wid- 
out an army of wood-cutters, and a life a hundred years long!” 

A week went by, food was wanting, the prisoners were in 
despair, and they had both crept out again and again to the 
ehd of the corridor, and listened to try and make out some- 
thing; but all outside was solemnly still, and the place might 
have been once more the abode of death, had not a couple of 
sentries always been visible keeping watch, so that it was im- 
possible to stir. 

“ I can’t shtand this anny longer, sor,” said Dinny one 
evening. “ I’m going to see if I can’t find her, sor. I must 
have news of the darlin’, or I shall die!” 

“ It’s madness, Dinny!” said Humphrey, excitedly. 

‘‘ Sure,»and I know it is, sor. I am mad.” 

“ But you will injure her and yourself too.” 

“ I can’t help it, sor. I’ve a faling upon me that Black 
Mazzard has got her again, and I’m going to fetch her away.” 

“ You are going to your death; and it will be through me, 
man!” 

Make your moind aisy, sir, about that. It would be all 
the same if ye were not here. Sure, and I’d be a poor sort of 
a boy if I towld a woman I loved her, and thin, when the dar- 
lin’ was in difliculties, jist sat down quietly here, and left her 
in the lurch. ” 

She would not have you stir, Dinny, if she knew.” 

‘‘ What of that, sor? Let ’em hang me if they catch me; and 
if they do, sor, Oi’ll doie like a Kelly. And not a word will I 
shpake of where ye are; and I wish ye safe away to your swate- 
heart — for ye’ve got wan, I’m thinking, or ye wouldn’t be so 
aiger to get away.” 

‘‘ Well, promise me this, Dinny — you’ll wait a few hours 
and see if we have news.” 

Faix, and for your sake, sor. I’ll do that same,” said 
Dinny. 

He went to the window opening and leaned there, listening; 
while Humphrey seated himself upon the edge of the couch to 
watch the opening above his head, in expectation that Mis- 
tress Greenheys might arrive and put an end to the terrible 
su^ense as to her silence. 

The still, sultry heat was terrible, not a leaf moved outside, 
and the darkness came on more obscure than usual; for as 
Humphrey looked out of tho window from time to time, to 


216 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


gaze along the forest arcade, there was not a fire-fly visible, 
and the heavy, oppressive state of the air seemed to announce 
a coming storm. 

Dinny^s figure had long been invisible, but he made his 
presence known by crooning over snatches of the most depress- 
ing minor-keyed Irish melody he could recall; but after a time 
that ceased, and the silence grew lieavy as the heat. 

How long have I been asleep?^^ he muttered, starting up 
and listening. “ Dinny!^' 

Ho answer. 

“Hinny! Hist! Are you asleep?^^ 

He dared call no louder, but rose from the couch. 

“Dennis Kelly, the traitor, has gone, Humphrey Arm- 
strong!^^ cried a hoarse voice, and he felt himself driven back 
into the great tomb-like place. 

“ Commodore Junk!^^ cried Humphrey in his surprise. 

“Yes, Commodore Junk. Ha! I have you. My prisoner 
once again. j 

“ Your prisoner? Ho, not if 1 die for it!^^ cried Hum- 
phrey, passionately; and he struggled to free himself from the 
tightening grasp. 

“ I tell you it is madness. You have proved it yourself, 
and, weary with your folly, you have returned.^’ 

“ Returned !^^ cried Humphrey, fiercely; “ yes, but only to 
be free.^^ 

The captain tried to utter some angry appeal, but a fierce 
struggle had commenced, and the great stony place seemed to 
be full of whispers, of hoarse sighs, the catching of breath, 
harsh expirations as the contending pair swayed here and there 
— the captain, lithe and active as a panther, baffling again 
and again Humphrey's superior weight and strength. Twice 
over the latter tripped and nearly fell, but he recovered him- 
self and struggled on, seeking to wind his arms round the buc- 
caneer and lift and throw him with a west-country wrestling 
trick. But try how he would, his adversary seemed to twist 
like an eel and recover himself, till suddenly, as they swayed 
here and there, with the thick rugs kicked on one side, there 
was a low, jangling noise as a sword escaped from its scabbard 
and fell upon the stony floor. 

It ^as a trifling incident, but it attracted the buccaneer^s 
attention for a moment: — just long enough to put him off his 
guard — the ^ result being that he was thrown heavily, Hum- 
phrey planting his knee upon his breast, and as he thrust out 
a hand it encountered the fallen sword, wMch he snatched up 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


217 

with a shout of triumph, shortened in his hand, and held to 
the buccaneer^’s throat. 

“ Now,^’ he cried, fiercely, “ I have the upper hand, my 
lad. You are my prisoner. Make but one sound, and it is 
your last. 

The buccaneer uttered a low moan, and snatched at the 
blade, but the intervening hand was thrust away, and the point 
pressed upon the heaving flesh. 

“ Do you give in?^^ 

‘‘ No!^' cried the bucdaneer, fiercely, Strike, Humphrey 
Armstrong; strike, and end my miserable life! Then go and 
say, 1 have slain the woman who loved me with all her heart 

“ What!^’ cried Humphrey, starting back, as the sword fell 
from his nerveless hand, and a flash, as of a revelation, en- 
lightening him as to the meaning of much that had before 
seemed strange. 

‘‘ Well, why do you not strike? Did I not speak plainly? I 
am Mary Dell!^' 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A FRESH ALARM. 

“ Yes; who called?’^ cried Humphrey, starting up. 

Hist! Be careful. It is me.^’’ 

Humphrey sprung from his couch., and was about to speak, 
when the curtain was thrown roughly aside, and Bart entered 
quickly. 

“ Whak’s the matter?"^ he said, roughly. 

‘‘Matter!^^ said Humphrey. “1 — I — must have been 
dreaming. 

Bart looked at him sourly, and then gave a suspicious look 
round. 

“ What time is it?” said Humphrey, hastily. 

‘‘ Time! What do we know about time here? ^Bout four 
bells.” 

Humphrey gazed excitedly at the dimly seen figure, visible 
by a faint light which streamed in beside the curtain, and then 
as the curtain fell he advanced slowly till he could peer through 
and see that Bart had gone right to the far end of the cor- 
ridor, where he had a lantern set in a stone recess, beside which 
he ensconced himself, and played sentry once again. 

Escape is impossible unless I choose the gates of death,” 
muttered Humphrey, as he stole back cautiously, and then in 
a low voice said: 

‘ ' Hist ! Did any one call ?” 


218 


COMMODORE JUMK. 


“Yes. Is it safe to whisper?’^ came from above. 

“ Mistress Greenheys!^^ cried Humphrey, joyfully. “ Speak 
low, don^t whisper; it penetrates too far. How I have longed 
to hear from you!^' 

“ Oh, sir, pray, pray^ save him!^^ 

“ Hinny said Humphrey, starting. 

^ “ Yes. He is to be killed, and it was for your sake he ran 
that risk. Pray, try and save him. 

“ What can 1 do?^^ 

“ Implore the captain. He may listen to you. 1 can not 
bear it, sir; it makes me feel half madT^ 

“ Have you seen him?^^ 

“ Seen him? No, sir. He^s kept closely shut up in one of 
the stone chambers by the captain^s quarters, and two men 
watch him night and day. 

“ As I am watched, said Humphrey, bitterly. 

“ Yes, sir; but you have not been untrue to your captain. 
You are not sentenced to death, and every man eager to see 
you hung. My poor Dennis! It is my fault, too. Why did 
we ever meet?^^ 

Huniphrey was silent. 

“ You will see the captain, sir, and ask him to spare his 
life?^^ 

Humphrey ground his teeth. To ask Dinny^s life was to 
ask a favor of Mary Dell, and to place himself under greater 
obligations still. 

“That is not all the trouble, said the woman, who was 
evidently sobbing bitterly. “ That wretch Mazzard is still at 
liberty. 

“Not escaped cried Humphrey. 

“ Not escaped! — not taken !^'’ said the woman. “ He is in 
hiding about the place, and I have seen him. 

She seemed to shudder, and her sobs grew more frequent 

“ He has not dared to come to you?^^ 

“ No, sir; but he came near enough to speak to and threaten 
me. He will come some night and drag me away, and it 
would be better to die. Ah!'"’ 

She uttered a low cry; and as Humphrey listened he heard 
low, quick talking, a faint rustling overhead, and then the 
sound of the voices died away. 

“ Discovered !^^ said Humphrey, bitterly. “ Fate is work- 
ing against me now. Better, as she said, to die. 

A quarter of an hour’s silence ensued, and conscious that at 
any moment he might be watched, as far as the deep gloom 
would allow, Humphrey seated himself upon the edge of the 


COMMODORE JUNK. 219 

old stone altar, and folded his arms, to see what would be the 
next buffet of fate he was to bear. 

He had not long to wait. 

There was the sound of a challenge at the end of the cor- 
ridor, and a quick reply, followed by an angry muttering, and 
Humphrey laughed mockingly. 

Master and dog!^^ he said, bitterly. ‘‘ Mistress and dog, 
I ought to say. ” 

He drew himself up, for he heard a well-known step coming 
quickly along the passage. The curtain was snatched aside, 
and the buccaneer took a dozen strides into the place and 
stooped, looking round. 

‘‘ Where are you?^^ cried the buccaneer, in a harsh, im- 
perious voice, deep almost as that of a man. 

There was no replyl 

‘‘ Where are you, I say?'’^ was repeated, imperiously. “ Are 
you ashamed to speak 

“No! What do you want?^' 

The buccaneer started in surprise, and faced round. 

“ Are you there? Coward! Traitor! This explains all. 
This is the meaning of the haughty contempt — the miSferable 
coldness. And for a woman like that — the mistress of the 
vilest slave among the men. Humphrey Armstrong — you, the 
brave officer, to stoop to this! Shame upon you! Shame 

“ Woman, are you mad?^^ 

“ Yes! Mad!’^ cried the buccaneer, fiercely. “ I scorn 
myself for my weak, pitiful fancy for so despicable a creature 
as you. So this is the brave captain, holding nightly meetings 
with a woman like that!^^ 

“ As I would with any one who could help me to escape 
from this vile bondage, said Humphrey. 

“ Vile! Who has made it vile?’^ 

“ You,^"* said Humphrey, sternly, “ and as if 1 were not de- 
graded low enough by your base passion and declaration, you 
come here In the night to insult me by such an insinuation as 
that. ” 

There was utter silence for a few moments, and then a quick 
step forward; and before Humphrey Armstrong could realize 
the fact, Mary Dell had cast herself dowff, thrown her arms 
around him, and laid her cheek against his feet. 

“ Trample on me and crush me, or kill me,^^ she moaned. 
“ I am mad. 1 did not think it. Humphrey, have pity on 
me. You do not know. 

He trembled as she spoke, and clinched his fists tightly; but 
making an effort over himself, he said coldly: 


220 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“ You have imprisoned the woman^s lover, and she says he 
is to die. She came there, as she has come many times before, 
to plan escape with me and the man I persuaded to be the' — > 
partner of my flight. For this he is to die. 

“ It is the men's will," groaned the prostrate woman. 

“ She has been praying to me to save her lover. I felt I 
could not ask you; but I do ask. Spare the poor fellow's 
life, and set him free." 

“ Do you wish it?" 

“Yes." 

“ He shall be set free. You see, 1 can be merciful, while 
you alone are stern and cold. How long am I to suffer this?" 

“ How long will you keep me here a prisoner?" 

“ How long will you keep yourself a prisoner, you should 
say. It is for you to be master here; for me to be your slave. 
How can I humble myself — degrade myself — more?" 

Humphrey drew his breath in an angry, impatient hiss. 

“For Heaven's sake, rise!" he cried. “You lower your- 
self. You humble me. Come : let us talk sensibly. 1 do not 
want to be hard upon you. 1 will not say bitter things. Give 
me youn^hand. " 

He took the hand nearest to him as he bent down, and raised 
the prostrate woman. 

“ Be seated," he said, gravely. “ Let me talk to you as I 
would to some one who can listen in an unprejudiced spirit." 

There was no reply. 

“ In your character of the captain of these buccaneers you 
asked me, an English officer, to be your friend and companion 
— to share with you this command. Is that all?" 

Still no reply. 

“ Let us tear away the veil," he continued; “for surely I 
am no egotist when I say to you that from the beginning it 
was more than this." 

“No; I did not know then. I thought that you might be 
my friend; that I should keep up this disguise until the end," 
was faltered, piteously. 

“Impossible!" cried Humphrey, sternly. “Let me be 
plain with you. Let me tell you that I have sat here alone 
thinking, reading your character, pitying you for all that is 
past." 

“ Pity!" came in a deep, low voice. 

“ Yes," he said, gently, “ pity. Let me try, too, and be 
grateful. For you spared my life at first; you saved it after- 
ward." 

“ Go on. You torture me." 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


221 


‘‘ I must torture you, for 1 have words to speak that must 
be uttered. 

He paused for a few moments; and then went on, speaking 
now quickly and agitatedly, as if the words he uttered gave 
him pain at the same time that they inflicted it upon another. 

When I was chosen to command this expedition, against 
one who had made the name of Commodore Junk a terror all 
round the gulf and amid the isles, 1 knew not what my fate 
might be. There were disease and death to combat, and I 
might never return. 

He paused again. Then more hurriedly: 

There was one to whom — 

“Sfcop!^^ came in a quick, angry voice. ‘‘I know what 
you would say; but you do not love another. It is not true.'’ 

Humphrey Armstrong paused again, and then in a low, 
husky voice: 

i bade farewell to one whom I hoped on my return to 
make my wife. It pains me to say these words, but you force 
them from me.” 

“ Have I not degraded myself enough? Have I not suffered 
till I am nearly mad that you tell me this?” came in piteous 
tones. 

Was I to blame?” 

“ You? Ho. It was our fate. What a triumph was 
mine, to And that I, the master who had lived so long with 
my secret known but to poor Bart, was now beaten, humbled 
— to find that day by day I was less powerful of will— that my 
men were beginning to lose confidence in me, and were ready 
to listen to the plots and plans of one whom I had spared, for 
him to become a more deadly enemy day by day. Humphrey 
Armstrong, have you no return to offer me for all I have 
suffered — all I have lost? Tell me this is false. You do not 
— you can not — love this woman.” 

He was silent. 

“ Is she so beautiful? Is she so true? Will she give you 
wealth and power? Will she lay down her life for you? 
Would she degrade herself for you as I have done, and kneel 
before you, ^saying, ‘ Have pity on me — I love you?' '' 

‘‘Hush, woman!” cried Humphrey, hoarsely; “and for 
pity’s sake — the pity of which you speak — let us part and 
meet no more. I can not, I will not listen to your words. 
Give me my liberty, and let me go. ” 

“ To denounce me and mine?” 

“Am I such a coward, such a wretch, that I should do 
this?” he cried, passionately. 


222 


OOMMODOKE JUKK. 


‘‘Then stay. Listen; I will give you love such as woman 
never gave man before. I loved your cousin as a weak, fool- 
ish girl loves the first man who whispers compliments and sings 
her praises. It is to her all new and strange, the realization 
of something of which she had dreamed. But as the veil fell 
from my eyes, and 1 saw how cowardly and base he was, that 
love withered away, and T thought that love was dead. But 
when you came my heart leaped, and I trembled and won- 
dered. I shrunk from you, telling myself that it was a mo- 
mentary fancy; and I lied, for it was the first strong love of a 
lonely woman thirsting for the sympathy of one who could 
love her in return. 

“Oh! hush — hush!^' cried Humphrey. “ I have told you 
that it can never be.'’^ 

“ And she will never love you as 1 would — as I do,^’ came 
in a low, imploring whisper. 

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!^^ cried Humphrey. “ Even 
if it were not so, I could not — Ho, I will not speak. I only 
say, for pity’s sake let us part.” 

He paused, for there was no reply. 

“ You do not answei^’ he said, gently. “ Think of what I 
say. I can not give you love. I should be unworthy of yours 
if I could. My friendship I can give, and it shall be devoted 
to saving you from this life. 

Still no reply; and the silence and darkness seemed deeper 
than before. 

“ You do not take my hand!” he said, bitterly. “ You do 
not listen to my words! Come, for Heaven’s sake be just to 
me. Say that I have spoken well, ” 

Still no reply; and he listened as he leaned forward; but 
there was nothing to be heard but the beating of his own 
heart. 

He leaned forward with outstretched hand, and bending 
down it touched the cold stone of the altar. 

He swept his hand to left and right, listening intently; but 
there was no sound. 

“ Why do you not speak?” he said, sternly, as he realized 
the folly of his first surmise. 

His words seemed to murmur in the roof and die away, but 
there was no reply. 

He took a few steps in different directions, suddenly and 
quickly, listening intently the while, feeling certain that he 
would hear her try to avoid him; but all was silent, and at last 
he made for the entrance, drew aside the curtain, and stood 
listening there, • 


COMMODORE JUliTK. 


223 


Feeling sure that his visitor could not have gone that way, 
he turned back, and with outstretched hands paced the great 
chamber to and fro till at each crossing he touched the stone 
wall. 

Satisfied at length that he was alone, and that the great 
stone which formed his couch had not been moved, he went 
once moi*e to the great curtain, pulled it aside, and passed 
through so as to go along the corridor, for now that his visitor 
had left him the desire to speak again came strongly. 

Half-way down the passage he suddenly became aware of an 
advancing light, and directly after he saw that it was gleaming 
from the brown face of Bart. 

“ Halloo! What now?^^ he growled. “ Where are you 
going?"" 

“ The captain! Did you meet the captain?"" said Hum- 
phrey, hastily. 

“Meet him! No. He came to me and sent me back,"" 
said Bart, grimly. 

“ Where is he, then?"" 

“ At his quarters, of course."" 

Humphrey Armstrong turned upon his heel frowning, as he 
felt that a great deal of what he had been saying must have 
been addressed to vacancy. 

He did not turn his head as he paced the corridor, but he 
was aware that he was followed by Bart, whose lantern shed its 
faint yellow gleam upon the great curtain till he had passed 
through, and all was in darkness as he crossed the great cham- 
ber, and threw himself upon the couch. But the place was 
feebly illuminated directly after, as Bart drew the drapery 
aside and peered in, holding the lantern well above his he^ to 
satisfy himself that his prisoner was there. 

Then he drew back, the great curtain fell into its place, and 
Humphrey"s jailer went slowly to his niche, where he set down 
his light, seated himself, and with arms folded and chin rest- 
ing upon his breast, moodily brooded over the position. 

“A curse!"" he muttered more than once — “a curse! If 
he were dead there would be peace once more, for she would 
forget him. Suppose,"" he thought, after awhile — “ suppose 
he was to be gone next time she came. Well, he might have 
escaped, and after a time she"d be at rest. It would be so easy, 
and it would be better for her. And yet he"s so brave and so 
handsome, such a man for her! Better see her happy and 
kill myself. Not that I need!"" he said, bitterly; “for she 
said she"d do that if aught happened to him. It"s hard 
work,"" he muttered, after awhile, “seeing the woman you 


224 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


love care for some one else, and him lying there, and as good 
as asking you to put him out of the way. ’ 

Barths head sunk lower as he crouched there, struggling with 
the great temptation of his life, till at last he slowly rose, and, 
shading the lantern within his breast, stepped cautiously to- 
ward the curtain which draped the door. Stretching out his 
hand, he was in the act of drawing it softly aside when there 
was a firm clutch at his shoulder, and a low voice whispered in 
his ear: 

‘‘ What are you going to do?” 

Bart drew back, let fall the curtain, and faced his leader. 

“ Nothing!” he said, abruptly. 

‘‘ You villain!” whispered the buccaneer. ‘‘ I read murder 
in vour eye!” 

“ Fm tired of it,” growled Bart. “ I give it up. 1 know 
what 1 am. I hopes for nothing; but when I see you go mad 
for one who hates you, and who will bring ruin on us all, as 
well as make you unhappy, it makes me mad too. He’s an 
enemy, and I could kill anybody as gives you pain!” 

“ As I could, and would, slay you if you hurt a hair of the 
head of the man I love!” 

“The man you love!” muttered Bart, bitterly. '‘Time 
back it was the other Captain Armstrong. Now it’s him. 
Anybody but a poor fellow like me!” 

“You have told me again and again you were content to be 
my friend. Go back to the quarters, and I’ll watch myself. 
1 have no one here I can trust!” 

Bart’s face worked as they slowly returned along the cor- 
ridor, and rage and pain were marked in turn upon his feat- 
ures. 

As they reached the place where he set down his lantern, 
he stood in a bent attitude, as if pondering upon the words 
which had been said. 

“ Why are you waiting?” said the captain, imperiously. 

“ Them words o’ yours,” said Bart. “ You said you could 
kill me.” 

“ As I would have done,” was the fierce reply, “ if harm 
had befallen him!” 

“ Better it had!” said Bart, bitterly. “ Better it had, and 
you’d killed me. Saved you from pain and me from a life of 
misery. Am I to go?” 

“ Yes,” said the captain, less firmly, as the man’s tones be- 
trayed the agony of his spirit. “Go; I have no one now 
whom I can trust. ” 

“ Don’t say that to me,” said the poor fellow, hoarsely, as 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


225 


he fell upon his knees and clasped hfe hands. “ Kill me if 
you like, captain, but don^t doubt me. All these years IVo 
done nothing but try and serve you faithful and well. 

“ And you would have slain the man 1 love!^^ 

“ Something tempted me, and it said that it was for your 
good, and when it was like that 1 felt I could do anything.^’ 

‘'You would have betrayed me!"’’’ 

‘ ‘ I would have killed him as give you pain, him who has 
changed you, and broken you down to what you are. I knew 
as I now know, that it^s ruin to you!"’"’ 

“ Silence, man, and go!'’' 

“ What has he done for you!” cried Bart. “ Naught but 
give you hard words, and curse you ever since he has been 
here, and yet you go on loving him!” 

“ What have I ever done for you, Bart, but give you hard 
words and cold looks, and yet yon have gone on loving me!” 

“ True,” said Bart, hoarsely; “ and so I shall tiJl I die!” 

“ And so shall I, Bart, till I die!” 

“ Don't talk like that,” he groaned. “ It's better to live 
and suffer than to talk of death. I give in — once more I 
give in!” 

“ Then go; I will watch!” 

“ No, captain; don't send me away! Trust me this once. 
I am faithful to you!” 

“ Ay; but not to him.” 

There was a pause, and Bart seemed to be struggling hard 
with himself, till he had won some terrible victory. 

“ Tell me,” he said at last, “ tell me to swear. I'll be as 
true to him as I've been to you, and I'll swear it. I'll die 
for him, if you say I am!” 

“ Then swear, Bart. Swear that I may depend on you as I 
would on myself! That, for my sake, you will defend him 
from all evil, come when it may!” 

“ Because you love him?” said Bart, slowly. 

“ Because I love him, man!” 

There was a painful silence for a few minutes, and then, as 
he knelt there, on the time-worn stones, the simple-hearted, 
sihgle-natured man said, in a low, husky voice: 

“ I swear it: so help me God!” 

Bart rose slowly, with his breath coming and going as if after 
some terrible struggle, and, as he stood there trembling, he 
felt his hand seized and held tightly between two warm, moist 
palms. 

He let it rest there for a few moments, and then snatched it 
away. 


8 


226 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 


‘‘ What are you going to do?^^ whispered the buccaneer. 
^^Obey orders,^’ said Bart, relapsing, as it were, to his 
former manner. 

“No; stay. I have only you to trust. 

“ And you^ll leave me now along of him?'^ 

“ Without a feeling of dread, Bart; because the temptation 
would come in vain. 

. “ Are we all mad?^^ said Bart, softly, as he stood listening 
to the retiring footsteps; and then he sunk down upon the 
stones, with his back to the wall, and the light shining upon 
his rugged head. 


CHAPTER XXXVL 

ONE PKISONEE FEEE. 

“ Hinny! You here?^^ 

“ Yes, sor — it^s me.^' 

! “ But at liberty?” 

“ Yes, sor; and I^m to attend on ye as I did avore.^^ 

“ But—” 

“ Oh, it^s all right, sor! The captain^s a bit busy, and I^m 
not to be hung at present. I^m to be kept till there^s a big 
holiday, and be strung up then. It^s the fashion out in this 
part of the counthry. ” 

“ My poor fellow,” cried Humphrey, “ I am glad to see you 
safe again!” 

“ Safe, sir! and d^ye call it safe, whin the first time, per- 
haps, as the shkipper gets in a passion I shall be hung up in all 
me youth and beauty, like one o’ the big drooping fiowers on 
a tree?” 

“ Nonsense, man!” 

“ Oh, it’s sinse, sor; and I shall droop, too, wid all my 
moight!” 

“No, no,” said Humphrey, as he pondered upon the past, 
and saw in Hinny’s reprieve a desire to gratify him. ‘^No, 
my lad. I appealed to the captain to spare your life, and this 
is the result. ” 

“Hid ye, now, sor? Sure, an’ I thought that the pretty 
little darlin’ had been down on her knees to him; and, know- 
ing what a timpting little beauty she is, it made me shiver till 
I began to consider what sort of a man the captain is, and 
how, when the boys have been capturing the women, and shar- 
ing^ ’em out all round, the shkipper niver wance took a fancy to 
a single sowl. Faix, and he’s always seemed to take to you. 


COMMODORE JUNK'. 227 

sor, more than to anny one else. Some men^s of a marrying 
sort, and some ar'n^t. The skipper’s one of the ar’n’ts.” 

Humphrey looked at the man curiously, but it was evident 
that he had no hidden meaning. 

“ Sure, sor,” continued Hinny, when I think about you 
two, it has always seemed to me as if the captain wanted to be 
David to your Jonathan, only the other way on, for the skip- 
per isn’t a bit like King David.” 

‘‘ Have you suffered much?” 

“ Suffered, sor?” 

“ I mean in prison.” 

“ Divil a bit, sor! I’ve lived like a foighting-cock. They 
always fade a man up well in this part of the counthry before 
they finish him off. ’ ’ 

“ You may make your mind easy, Dinny,” said Humphrey, 
thoughtfully; “ the captain will not take your Life unless he 
takes mine too.” 

“ An’ is it mak’ me moind asiy, sor, when I can’t get spache 
of the darlin’, and thaf Black Mazzard in hiding somewhere 
and freckening the poor sowl to death?” 

“ Surely, there is nothing to fear from him now?” 

Faix, and I don’t know that same. I shall always be 
freckened about him till a dacent praste has tied us two to- 
gether toightly, and then I sha’n’t be happy till 1 know that 
Black Mazzard’s nailed up bechuckst four boards; and if I’ve 
annything to do wid it they shall be as thick as trees and nailed 
wid screws.” 

‘‘ He has made his escape somewhere?” 

‘‘ Hot he, sor; and 1 don’t like the look o’ things. I’ve 
been too much shut up to see annything, being more like a 
cockroach in a whishky bottle and the cork tied down than 
annything else. But I’m skeart, captain, darlin’; and if anny- 
thing happens — whisht! have ye kept my saycret?” 

He put his lips close to the prisoner’s ear, and whispered 
as he gave a knowing look at the couch. 

It is a secret still, Dinny. ” 

“ Good luck to ye, sor! Thin, if annything happens, just 
you go there and lie shnug till I come to ye; and if ye’ll tak’ 
my advice ye’ll keep on putting a dhrop o’ wine in the cellar 
and shtoring up a bit o’ food; and if it isn’t wanted, why 
ye’re no worse off.” 

“ Explain yourself, my lad,” said the prisoner, for the live- 
ly chatter of the Irishman relieved the tedium of his confine- 
ment. 

‘‘Histr”* 


228 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


Murther!^^ ejaculated Dinny, as a faint signal came from 
overhead. “ Sure an^ I was niver cut out for a prophet afther 
all.^" 

‘‘ Dinny! — Captain Armstrong!^^ came from above. 

“ Good Itick to ye, darlin’I kape on shpakirig,^* whispered 
Dinny, excitedly. “ It does me good to hear ye; but niver 
mind the captain, darlin’. Shpake to me.^^ 

“ I came here — at great risk,^^ came down, as if the speaker 
was panting heavily. There’s something wrong — I want to 
put you on your guard. Tell the captain. Quick! I dare not 
stay.” 

“ But, darlin’, what’s wrong? Whisht! shpake out, and 
let’s hear ye. Look at that, now! Why, she’s gone!” 

For there was a faint rustling overhead, and then all wab 
silence once again. 

“ Sure, sor, would ye look at me,” cried Dinny, with a most 
perplexed expression of countenance, “ and tell me if I’m 
^wake or it’s only a dhrame.” , 

“ Dinny,” said Humphrey, ‘^she would not have come in 
such haste if there had not been good cause. Go and warn the 
captain. Quick!” 

The day passed without news, and, weary with his tedious 
pacing of his great cell, Humphrey Armstrong threw himself 
upon his couch, where he lay, with the great solemn face of 
the old stone idol seeming to loom down mysteriously from 
above. 

It was not until the next morning that he saw Dinny again. 
The night had passed quietly, and the day found Humphrey 
still watching. He, however, dropped into a pleasant slumber 
as the sun rose, in which sleep he was still plunged when 
Dinny came. 

“ Jist nawthing at all, sor,” he said. “ The darlin’ must 
have got a craze in her head, for when I told the captain he 
thrated me wid scorn, and Bart asked me if I was playing the 
fool.” 

Then there is no danger?” 

“ Divil a bit, sor, that I can think out,” said Dinny. 

“ But Mistress Greenheys?” 

“ What about her, sor?” 

“ What did she say?” 

“ Sure an’ you heard it all, sor. I couldn’t repate it now 
ifithried.” 

“ But you have seen her since?” 

• “ Seen her! Bedad I’d only like to — if it was only to shpake 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


229 


wan word to her wid ine oi. No, sor, I can^t get spache of 
her. 

But is all quiet in the place?^’ 

^‘An^ is it quiet. ^ Why, a tomb in Aygypt is a lively place 
to it. The schooner^s getting rotting for want o’ work, and 
the men do nothing but dhriuk and shlape, and the captain’s 
shut up all alone whin he isn’t down in the forest saying his 
prayers.” 

“ Is it the calm that comes before the storm, Dinny?” said 
Humphrey. 

“ Sure an’ I don't know, sor; but I’ll kape watch if I can, 
and give ye word if there’s anny thing wrong; but me poor 
head’s in a mix, and since I’ve been out of prishn I seem to 
see nothing but Black Mazzard shwarming all over the place 
and takin’ me darlin’ away. Did ye intersade wid the cap- 
tain, sor?” 

Dinny, I have not seen him again,” said Humphrey, 
frowning. 

“Not seen him, sor! • Why, he has been here half a dozen 
toimes.” 

“Been here? No.” 

“ Sure and I saw him wid me own ois, sor. Twice he came 
to the windy there and four toimes along by the big passage. 
Sure I thought ye’d been colloguing. ” 

“ I was not aware of it,” said Humphrey, calmly; but his 
words did not express the feelings that were raging within his 
breast, and as soon as he was alone he tried to analyze them. 

He must flee. He could do nothing else, and growing mo- 
mentarily more excited, he tried to force himself to act and 
think. 

The old temple. He would flee there for the present, he 
said. It would remove him from Mary’s pursuit, for she 
would never dream of his seeking refuge there, and from that 
place he might perhaps be able to open up communication 
with Dinny. 

He had no weapon, so he caught up a large table-knife and 
stuck it in his waistband. It was not much, but sometliing, 
and at that moment he recalled Mary Dell’s history — how she 
had told him that they had begun with a canoe; through that 
captured a larger boat;?that larger boat had enabled them to 
take a vessel; and so on till the swift schooner had been ob- 
tained. 

In the same way that knife should grow into a sword, he 
said to himself; and then he felt a sensation of half -blind rage 
at himself for making the comparison. 


230 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


“What is this hateful unsexed creature to nae!'^ he said, 
angrily, as he stood thinking as to his next step. 

Food! He must have food. In his excitement and the fury 
of the haste that was upon him, the trouble of taking it 
angered him; but he knew that he must have it, and gather- 
ing together what he could, he paused once more to think and 
listen. 

All was silent, and the drawing aside of the great curtain 
proved that Bart was not on guard, for there was no dull, yel- 
low gleam of his lantern at the end of the corridor, and once 
more it came over the prisoner as a feeling of wonder that he 
should not again and again have taken such steps as these. 
Almost unguarded, his prison doors and windows always open, 
and freedom given him to wander about the ruins, and yet like 
a pinioned bird he had stayed. 

“ They know that the sea before, the forest and mountain 
behind, are stronger than bolt and bar,^^ something seemed to 
whisper to him as he stood listening. 

“But not to a determined man, ready to do or die!^’’ he 
cried, as if forced to answer aloud; and he set his teeth as he 
still hesitated and paused before hurrying out of the great dark 
place. 

He stopped. What would she do when she found that he 
had gone? What would she say of the man whom, with all 
her faults, she evidently dearly loved, and would sacrifice all 
to win? 

Humphrey Armstrong stamped fiercely upon the old stone 
flooring, making the vaulted roof echo as he thrust his fingers 
into his ears in a child-like attempt to shut out and deafen 
himself to the silent whisperings which assailed him. 

He gave one glance round, trying to penetrate the darkness, 
and hesitated no longer, but strode away, passing out of the 
long corridor out among the ruins, and, well accustomed to 
the place now, making straight for the pathway which, at its 
division, turned toward the old temple. 

All was still; but it seemed lighter away to his left than he 
could quite account for, and he was starting again when a dis- 
tant shout as of many voices came through the silence of the 
night and died away. 

“ Carousing, he muttered, and he hesitated again. 

If the men were carousing the watch kept would be less 
strict, and there might be some chance of obtaining a boat. 

“To start alone on a cruise,"’ he said, half aloud. “ What 
madness!"" Then passionately: “ It all seems madness, and I 
can do nothing but drift with fate."" 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


231 


Fighting down thastrange hesitancy which kept assailing him 
in various forms, especially now in that of conj uring up difficul- 
ties in the way of escape, he plunged sturdily into the forest 
path, and, as fast as the darkness allowed, went on straight for 
the old temple, a grim place of refuge, with its ghastly relics; 
of Abel Dell lying, as it were, in state; and the horrible, haunt- 
ing recollections of the huge cavernous cenote where the 
would-be assassin had met his fate, and the other had been 
consigned as to his tomb. 

It was painful work. Every now and then some thorny 
creeper of rapid growth hung across and tore his skin; at 
some sudden turn he came in contact with tree- trunk or 
moldering stone; but the greater the difficulties in the dark- 
ness, the greater the rest seemed to Humphrey Armstrong's 
brain, and he kept on till a sudden turn brought him close to 
the fork, where one path went winding to the left toward the 
men^s and the captain^s quarters, the other to the temple. 

As he approached he became conscious of a rustling sound, 
as if a wild creature passing through the forest, and he 
snatched his knife from his waist, ready to strike for life if at- 
tacked; but, firmly convinced that there were no denizens of 
the wild there but such as were more likely to avoid him, he 
kept on again, to reach the dividing path just as he became 
aware that it was no creature passing through the wilderness 
of trees, but some one, like himself, hurrying along the track 
for the men^s quarters so rapidly that they came in contact, 
and a hand seized him by the throat, and the point of some 
weapon seemed to be pressed against his breast, as a voice ex- 
claimed in a hoarse whisper: 

‘‘ Make the slightest sound and it is your last.-^^ 

And as these words seemed to be hissed into his face, a shout 
arose from some distance along the path, and the tramping of 
feet and rustling of branches intimated that people were rapid- 
ly coming in pursuit. 

“ You!^^ exclaimed Humphrey, hoarsely, as he stood with 
hand uplifted to strike, but suspended in the act as if every 
muscle had suddenly become stone. 

“ Humphrey Armstrong 

The hand that had grasped his throat dropped nerveless, 
and the weapon fell from his breast as the shouting of men in- 
creased. ^ 

“ Well,^^ said Humphrey, bitterly, as if he were forcing 
himself to say words that he did not mean, “ why do you not 
strike? I was escaping. Call up your gang of cut-throats and 
end it all. ^^ 


232 


COMMODOEE JtJNK. 


Hush! For Heaven^s sake, hush! You will be heard/’ 

“ Well,” said Humphrey, aloud, and as if in defiance; but 
a warm soft hand was placed over his lips, and its owner whis* 
pered: 

“ You were trying to escape, or did you know?” 

Know!” said Humphrey, involuntarily speaking lower. 
“ Know what? I was escaping.” 

“ To the old temple! No, no, they are going there.” 

“ Your hounds!” 

“ Silence^ man, for your life!” was whispered close to his 
ear, and the hand once more sought his lips. 

“ Come on, my lads!” came out of the darkness ahead. 
“ I know where to find him, sniveling yonder among the old 
images. Come on!” 

There was a shout, and it seemed as if the leader of a body 
of men, beneath whose feet the rotten branches that bestrewed 
the path crackled, had suddenly halted for his companions to 
close up before saying a few final words of encouragement. 

“ Now then,” the voice said in thick, husky tones, “ stand 
by me, my lads. He’s gone on there, and there’s no getting 
back. One good, bold blow and we’ll scotch him like a snake. 
Then fair share and share alike of all there is hidden away, 
and start straight. He’s no good now, and the others’ll join 
in when he’s gone. Eeady?” 

“ Ay, ay!” came in hoarse, drunken jjones; and as Hum- 
phrey felt himself pressed back into the pathway by which he 
had come, there was a staggering of feet, and si dull trampling, 
as about a dozen men passed on, leaving behind them the 
thick reek of hot, spirit-laden breath. 

“ Now!'’ as the steps passed on. “ Now,” was whispered 
in Humphrey’s ear; “ this way.” 

“Ah!” arose in a fierce growl, as some one of the party 
who had not gone on with the rest made a dash at and seized 
the buccaneer captain. “ Prisoner! Who is it? Here, hi, 
mates, I’ve — ” 

He said no more. Without pause or thought why he did 
this — why he sought to save his companion — Humphrey Arm- 
strong made a spring in the direction of the voice, his hands 
came in contact with a coarse bull throat, and its owner was 
driven backward, to fall with his head striking a projecting 
piece, of stone, dragging the buccaneer in the fall. 

The man was stunned, and lay perfectly inert as Humphrey 
and his companion struggled to their feet, panting with exer- 
tion, and listening for the return of the party who had gone on. 

But they had not heard the noise of the struggle, the maze- 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 233 

like turnings of the path had shut it out, and their voices now 
came’ muffled and soft, as if from a distance. 

Then Humphrey felt his hand gripped firmly. 

“ This way.^'’ 

What! Are you going to take me back to prison?’^ said 
Humphrey, mockingly. 

“ Do you wish to go straight to death?’ ^ 

I am going straight to liberty!” cried Humphrey. 

This way, then,” whispered his companion; and without 
a word Humphrey allowed himself to be led back along the 
dark arcade, listening to the heavy panting of his guide, who 
seemed to be breathing heavily, and as if in pain. 

For some time no word was spokem Then, as he became 
aware of his companion’s purpose, Humphrey stopped short. 

“You are leading me back to that cursed prison,” he said, 
fiercely. “ Loose my hand.” 

“lam leading you to the only place where you will be safe,” 
was whispered back. “ Have I not suffered enough, man? 
Do you think I wish to die with the knowledge that these dogs 
will seize and rend you in their drunken frenzy?” 

“ Rend me?” 

“Yes. They have risen. That wretch, whom I have spared 
so long in my weak folly, is at their head. Humphrey Arm- 
strong, believe me, I am trying to save your life!” 

“ Then why not make for the shore? A boat! Give me a 
boat and let nje go!” 

“ Half the men who were faithful to me are dead, treacher- 
ously burned to death in their quarters. I can not explain; 
but the door-way was blocked by those fiends. The landing- 
place is guarded by a portion of his blood-thirsty gang. To go 
to the shore is to seek your death. Will you not trust me 
now?” 

“ It is to keep me here!” he cried fiercely. 

“ To keep you here when I would gladly say go! Trust me. 
Give me time to think. I was coming to save you when we 
met. Will you not believe?” 

*“ Yes!” cried Humphrey, hoarsely. “ I will trust you!” 

“Hah!” 

That was all. His hand was gripped more tightly; and, as 
he yielded it to his companion, he felt himself led with unerr- 
ing decision in and out among the moldering ruins of the edge 
of the clearing to the side of the old amphitheater, a faint 
metallic clink from time to time indicating that a sword was 
being struck upon the stones to make sure of the way. 

You are going back there?” said Humphrey. 


234 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 


“ Yes/^ came back, hoarsely. ‘‘ Do not speak. We may be 
heard. 

Humphrey was conscious that his guide had led him to the 
old altar and sunk upon it with a moan; but she still tightly 
clung to his hand. 

There they remained in silence as if listening for pursuit; 
and the deep, hoarse breathing of both sounded painfully loud 
in the utter darkness. 

Humphrey essayed to speak again and again, but he felt 
that he could not trust himself to utter words. 

It was his companion who broke the painful silence as she 
still clung to his hand. 

‘‘I ought to have acted sooner,^'’ she said, bitterly. ‘‘I 
might have known it would come to this; but in my cruel 
selfishness I could not speak — I could not let you go. Do not 
blame me — do not reproach me. It was my madness; and 
now the punishment has come. 

“ I do not understand you,^^ he said, huskily. 

You do,^^ she said, gently. ‘‘ But it is no time to think 
of this. ’ Listen ! These men will search every spot to find and 
slay me — and you; but you shall escape. Now, listen: Below 
this old place there is -a rock chamber, known only to me and 
Bart — who lies wounded yonder and helpless; but he will not 
betray the secret, even if he thinks that you are there. You 
,will go to the end of your couch, press heavily with your 
shoulder against the corner, forcing it in this ‘direction, and 
then the great stone will move upon a pivot. There is a way . 
down — 

“ You need not tell me,^^ said Humphrey at this point. I 
know.^^ 

“ Thank Heaven!’^ she ejaculated. “ Keep in hiding there 
till the wretches are off their guard; and then cautiously make 
your way by night down to the landing-place, and by some 
means seize a boat. There will be no guard kept when I am 
gone.^^ 

“ And my people — my poor fellows?'’^ 

Gone,^' she said, quietly. “ They seized a boat and es- 
caped long ago. All has been confusion here since — since I 
have been mad, ” she added, piteously. 

‘‘ Escaped 

‘‘ Yes; and you will escape. And in the future, when you 
are away — and happy— don^t curse me — think of me as a poor 
lost woman, driven by fate— to .what 1 am— but who saw and 
loved you, Humphrey Armstrong, as woman has seldom loved 
befom^^ 

r;. 


COMMODOKB JUNK. 


235 


“ Oh, hush!^^ he said, huskily. For Heaven^s sake donH 
speak like that!'’^ 

“ she said, gently, after listening for a few moments; 
but all was still. “ I will not speak. It is nearly over now. 
You will forgive me?^'’ 

“ Forgive you — yes!'’^ 

She uttered a low sigh, full of thankfulness, as she still 
clung to his hand. 

“It is enough,^' she said. “Now, go! You know the 
way. Be cautious, be patient, and bide your time; and then 
Heaven speed you safely home! He has forgiven me,’^ she 
sighed to herself, and the pressure upon his hand seemed to 
increase. 

“ Well,^' she said after a few moments^ pause, “why do 
you stay?^-’ 

Her voice startled him in its intensity, for it seemed to echo 
through the place; and his hand had, as it had been for many 
minutes past, grasped hers with crushing force as the tide rose 
to its fullest height and bore him on. 

“ And you?^" he said. “ What will you do?^^ 

“ I?'’^ she said with a faint laugh; “ I shall wait here until 
they come.^' 

“ Wait here?’^ cried Humphrey. “ They will kill you!^^ 

“ Yes,^’ she said, softly.. 

“ Then why not share my flight? Come with me now while 
there is time. I will protect you and take you where you will. 
I can not leave you like this!^'’ 

“ Not leave me?'’^ she said with a sob. 

“ No. Do you think me such a cur that I could leave you 
to the mercy of these wretches?'’^ 

“ It is too late,^^ she said. “ Go!'' 

“ Go?" 

“Yes, while there is time. " 

“ But you can hide as well as I!" he cried, excitedly. 
“ Come!'' 

“ It is too late," she said, and he felt her hand tremble in 
his grasp. 

“ And leave you?" he cried. “ I would sooner die!" 

“ Then you do love me?" she cried, wildly, as she half rose 
from the altar, but sunk back. 



Love you!" he cried. 


you, Mary, my brave, true heroine! I love you with all my 
heart!" 

She uttered a wild cry of joy as he threw himself upon his 


236 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 


knees and clasped her to his heart, his face buried in her 
breast and her two arms clung tightly round his neck, as she 
uttered a low moan of mingled joy and pain. 

Love you!^^ he whispered, as he raised his face, and his 
lips sought hers; “my darling! words will not tell my love! 
Come, what is the world to us? You are my world, my own, 
my love! Oome!^^ 

She clung to him passionately for a few moments. 

“At last!^^ she said softly, as if to herself; “the love of 
one true, noble man! Ah!^^ 

A low, deep sigh escaped her, and then, as if roused to a 
sense of her position, she thrust him back and listened. 

“ Hark!’’ she said, as a low shout arose. “ They are com- 
ing back — they will be here soon! Quick! lose no time! You 
must escape!” 

“ And you?” he said, wildly. 

She took his hand and laid it slowly upon her bosom, to 
press it there, so that he could feel the heavy dulJ throb of her 
heart. 

For a moment even then he did not realize what she meant. 
Then, with a wild cry he leaped to his feet, for his hand was 
wet with the warm blood which welled from a terrible wound. 

“ You are hurt?” he cried. 

“ To the death, Humphrey. Oh, my love, my love! Take 
me in your arms once more and hold me to your heart. Tell 
me that you will remember me, and then lay me here, upon 
"this old stone, with your kiss wet upon my lips. Death will 
be easy then!” 

“ Death easy! I leave you! If we must die it shall be to- 
gether!” he panted, as he once more infolded her in his arms. 

“ This is madness,” she whispered, as she struggled feebly 
in his embrace. “ Go, for pity’s sake — go!” 

“ My place is here!” he said, in a low, fierce voice, as he 
took up the sword she had let fall upon the pavement. “We 
shall not die alone. Whose cowardly hand inflicted that 
wound?” 

“You need not ask,” she said, feebly. “ He missed be- 
fore — the blow was true this time.” 

“ The fiend! The devil!” groaned Humphrey, as the sword 
quivered in his grasp. “ Well, we shall want- a slave to open 
the gates of death. His shall be the task!” 

She clung to him with failing strength, and drew herself up 
by him till she could once more rest upon his breast, with her 
arms tightly clasped about his neck. 

“ You told me at last you loved me,” she panted. “ You 


COMMODOKE JUNK. 


237 


said the words I have so hungered to hear — words I thought 
that I should have died and never heard pass your lips. Now 
that I know it, and that it is true, do not iinbitter my last 
moments by showing me that I have tried in vain. ” 

“ I could not live without you now!^^ he cried, passionately, 
as he held her to him more tightly still. 

“ They are coming. It is too late for me. Let me dieun 
peace, knowing that you are saved. . 

He raised her in his arms and bore her to the great stone, 
and, as he laid her gently down, the noise of the coming gang 
could be heard. 

There was not a moment to lose, and any slip in his instruc- 
tions would have resulted in destruction; but as he pressed 
against the stone it easily revolved, and he stooped once more 
and raised the fainting woman in his arms, to bear her down 
into the tomb-like structure and place her at the foot of the 
broad stone stairs which led into the vault. 

As he loosened her arms from about his neck and passed 
quickly up again, there were heavy steps in the long corridor, 
and lights flashed through the openings of the great curtain. 
So close were the men that Humphrey saw their faces as he 
stood on the upper step and dragged at the slab by two great 
hollows underneath, made apparently by the olden masons for 
the mover’s hands. 

For the moment Humphrey, as he bent down there beneath 
the place on which he had so often slept or lain to think, felt 
certain that he must have been seen; but the muffled voices 
came close up, the steps trampled here and there, sounding 
dull and hollow, and there was no seizing of the great stone, 
no smiting upon its sides. 

He held his breath as he stood bending down and listening 
for some indication of danger; but it seemed as if the men had 
coursed all over the place, searching in ^,11 directions, and were 
about to go, when, all at once, there was a shout close to the 
place where he had raised Mary from the altar. . 

The shout was followed by a muffled sound of many voices, 
and he listened, wondering what it meant. Some discovery 
had evidently been made, but what? 

He shuddered, and a chill of horror shot through him, for 
he knew directly after. 

It was blood. 


238 


COMMODOEE JUKiv. 


OHAPTEE XXXVIL 

IK THE VAULT. 

With the deathly silence which ensued as the heavy echo- 
ing steps of the searchers passed away, the men being com- 
pletely at fault as to why certain drops of blood should be 
lying near the couch, Humphrey descended the steps once 
more. 

‘‘They are gone,’^ he whispered, but there was no reply; 
and, feeling softly about, his hand came in contact with 
Mary^s arm, to find that she lay back in a corner of the vault, 
with a kerchief pressed tightly against her breast, 

He hastily bandaged the wound, firmly binding the hand- 
kerchief which she held there with his own and the broad scarf 
he wore, and, after placing her in a more comfortable position, 
began to search in the darkness for the food and water which 
were there. 

The water was soon found — a deep, cool cistern in the mid- 
dle of the floor. 

The food lay close at hand, and with it one of the silver 
cups he had had in use above. With this he bore some of the 
cool, refreshing liquid to the wounded woman, holding some 
to her lips and bathing her brow, till she uttered a sigh and 
returned to consciousness, her first act being to stretch out her 
hand and .lay it upon Humphrey's shoulder to draw him 
nearer to her. 

“ DonT leave me!’^ she-said, feebly. “ It i^ very dark!^^ 

“ But we are safe,^^ he whispered. “ They are gone/^ 

“ Yes, she sighed; “I heard them. How long is it to 
day?'" 

“ It can not be long now,"" he said, as he took her hand. 

She sighed as she’ felt the unwonted tenderness and rested 
her head against his shoulder. 

“ No,"" she said, softly, “ it can not be long now. It will 
come too soon!'" 

There was so much meaning in her voice that he felt a cold 
chill, as if the hand of death had passed between to separate 
these two so strangely brought together. 

“ Are you in pain?"" he said. 

“Pain! No. Happy — so happy!"" she whispered. “For 
you do love me?"" 

“ Love you!"" he cried. 

“ And she — at home?"" 


COMMODORE JUNK. 239 

That was not love/^ he said, wildly. “ But now tell me 
about this place — shall we see the day when it comes?^^ 

“ You will,’^ she said, softly. “ 1 shall — perhaps. 

“ Perhaps! No. you shall!^^ he whispered, as he pressed 
his arm gently around her, forgetting everything now of the 
past, save that this woman loved him, and that there was a 
future before them of hope and joy. “ Tell me what I can do 
— to help you. 

‘‘ Hold me like that,^^ she whispered, with a sigh of con- 
tent. “It is better so. It could never have been — only my 
wild dream — a woman^’s thirst for the love of one in whom 
she could believe. A woman^s love!^^ 

Little more than an hour could have passed, during which 
Humphrey had twice heard sounds of voices, and once a heavy 
step overhead — this last making him steal his right hand softly 
toward the sword that lay by his side — when a faint light 
seemed to gleam on the surface of the water in the center of 
the vault; and soon after he found that this served to shed a 
softened dawn through the place — a dawn which grew stronger, 
but was never more than a subdued twilight. It was enough, 
though, to show him the proportions of the place, its quaint 
carving, and the fact that beside the long shaft which opened 
out far above his head there was what seemed to be a stone 
grille, beyond which was the tangled growth of the forest, 
much of which, in root and long prickly shoot, penetrated 
nearly to where they sat. 

As the light grew stronger he saw that his companion seemed 
to have lost the old masculine look given by her attire; for 
coat and vest had been cast aside, and the loose shirt, open at 
the neck, had more the aspect of a robe. Her dark hair 
curled closely about her temples, and as Humphrey Arm- 
strong gazed down at the face, with its parted lips and long 
lashes lying upon the creamy dark cheeks, his heart throbbed, 
for he felt that he had won the love of as handsome a woman 
as any upon whom his eyes had ever lighted. 

He forgot the wound, the bandaging kerchief seeming in the 
semi-darkness like some scarf; and as he sat and gazed he 
bent down lower and softly touched the moist forehead with 
his lips. 

Mary woke up with a frightened start and gazed at him 
wildly, but as consciousness came her look softened and she 
nestled to him. 

“ I did not mean to wake you,"^ he said. 

She started again and looked at him wildly, as if she fancied 
she had detected a, chilliness in his manner; but his eyes un- 


240 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


deceived her, and as he rasied her hand to his lips, she let it 
rest there for a few moments, and then stole it round his neck. 

“ Tell me,’^ he said, gently, your wound.^^' 

She shook her head softly. 

“ No,^^ she whispered; “ let it rest. Talk of yourself. 
You will wait here two days, and then steal out at night and 
make your way down to the shore. You, know the way?’’ 

“ If I do not you will guide me,” he said. 

She looked at him keenly to see if he meant what he said, 
and then, reading the sincerity of his words in his frank eyes, 
she shook her head again. 

No,” she whispered. “ You asked me of my wound. It 
is home. Humphrey Armstrong, this is to be my tomb!” 

“ What!” he cried. Oh, no! no! no! You must live to 
bless me with your love!” 

‘‘ Live to disgrace you with my love!” 

‘‘Mary!” 

There was such a depth of love, such intensity in the tone 
in which he uttered her name, that she moaned aloud. 

“ Ah, you are in pain!” he cried. 

“ In pain for you,” she whispered, “ for you suffer for my 
sake. Hist! Do you hear?” 

She clung to him tightly. 

“ No,” he said, “ there is nothing.” 

” Yes,” she said, softly. “ Steps. I can hear them — they 
are coming back. ” 

He listened once more; but his ears were wanting in the 
preternatural keenness brought on by his companion’s exalted 
nerves. He heard nothing for a few moments; and then with 
a start he seized the sword, for steps were faintly heard now 
to grow plainer and plainer till they were close overhead. 

Mary signed to him to listen; at that moment the stone slab 
moved gently a few inches, for some one had seated himself 
upon the edge, and the buzz of talking was heard. 

“ Now, my lad,” cried a hoarse, drink-engendered voice, 
which came plainly to where they crouched, “you know all 
about it, and I’m captain now. Where’s that prisoner?” 

” Sure, and how could I know anny way. Black Mazzard?” 

“ Captain Mazzard!” roared the first speaker. 

“Oh, murther! Put them pishtols away, and I’ll call ye , 
captain, or adhmiral if ye like!” 

“No fooling! Where is that prisoner?” 

‘‘ Which one, sor?” 

No fooling, Paddy! Captain Armstrong!” 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 241 

“ Faix, an^ he must have run away, shear t loike, whin he 
heerd you were coming.^'’ 

“You know where he is!^^ 

“ Faix, and that^s thrue,^^ said Dinny. 

“ Where is he, then? Tell me the truth, and I’ll let you 
live this time. Tell me a lie, and I’ll hang you!” 

“ Och, don’t, captain! Ye’d waken yer crew horribly if ye 
were to hang me. ” 

“ I’ll hang you as sure as you stand there, if you don’t con- 
fess. ” 

“ Murther! Don’t, now, captain, for I shouldn’t die 
dacently if ye did hang me. It isn’t a way I’ve been accus- 
tomed to. Ah, moind! That pishtol might go off. ” 

“ It will go off if you don’t speak. He’s hidden somewhere 
here, and you know where. Speak out!” 

“ Shpake out! And is its shpake out?” said Dinny, slow- 
ly, as with advanced blade Humphrey stood ready to plunge it 
into the breast of the first man who attempted to descend. 
“ Oh, well. I’ll shpake out then.” 

“The traitor!” muttered Humphrey. “False to one, 
false to all!” » 

“ Where is he, then?” roared Mazzard. 

“ Faix, he’s in his skin, captain.” 

“ You dog!” roared Mazzard. And there was the report 
of a pistol, followed by a wild shriek. 

“Don’t — don’t kill!” cried a piteous woman’s voice. 
“ Don’t kill him!” 

“ Not kill him?” snarled Mazzard. 

“ No, no! Spare him, and I’ll tell you.” 

“ Bedad, an’ if ye do. I’ll niver forgive ye,” cried Dinny, 
fiercely. “ Ye don’t know nawthing. He’s eshcaped.” 

“ Where is he?” roared Mazzard, “ Speak out, woman, or 
I’ll blow his head off!” 

Humphrey sprung up a couple of steps to defend Dinny; 
but Mary Dell lay there, and to show himself was to* betray 
her — the woman whom he knew he passionately loved. Of 
himself he thought nothing. 

But the task of betrayal to save her lover was spared to 
Mistress Greenheys, for, as Black Mazzard stood with one hand 
on Dinny ’s shoulder, and his second pistol pointed close to his 
ear, so that his second shot should not fail, one of his men ex- 
claimed aloud : 

“ Why, he’s there! Look at the blood!” 

Mazzard turned and glanced down at the floor upon which 
he stood, then at the stained stone which formed the cover of 


242 


COMMODOEE JUNK. 


the vault. He uttered a harsh laugh, for the stone had been 
slightly moved. 

“ Here, half a dozen of you!^’ he roared. Lay holdl^’ 

His men seized the stone; and after one or two trials to raise 
it up, it was thrust sideways, and the hiding-place revealed. 

With a yell of savage delight Black Mazzard began to de- 
scend, followed by his crew. There was the clash of swords, 
two men fell, wallowing in their blood, and then Humphrey 
drew back into the corner before Mary Dell, determined to 
defend her to the last. 

Two more men went down; and there was a brief pause, fol- 
lowed by a savage rush and a m^lee, in which Humphrey's 
sword snapped off at the hilt, and the next minute he was 
above in the great chamber, pinioned between two of Mazzard^s 
men; and Mary Dell was borne up to lie at her conqueror’s 
feet. 

“You savage!” roared Humphrey, as he sunk panting on 
a stone. 

“ Savage!” retorted Mazzard, with a brutal grin. “ Stand 
up, you dog!” 

“ Stand yourself — in the presence of your king’s officer!” 
shouted Humphrey, in his rage. 

“King!” cried Mazzard, mockingly. “I’m king here. 
Now then, you!” he cried to his men, who enjoyed seeing 
him bearded. “ Quick! two ropes!” 

He turned sharply upon his men, who hurried off to obey 
the command. 

Humphrey gazed at Mazzard aghast. The threat implied in 
the order seemed too horrible to be believed, and for the mo- 
ment he looked round in doubt. 

But Mazzard was in power; and in a few minutes the ropes 
were forthcoming. 

Humphrey glanced from the men who approached and then 
at Mary Dell, with the intention of proclaiming her sex; but a 
horrible feeling of dread thrilled through him at the thought 
of making such a revelation to the monsters who had gained 
the upper hand, and, gathering himself up, he waited his 
time, and then wrested himself free, sending the men who held 
him right and left, and leaped to where — unable to stand up- 
right — his fellow-prisoner was held. 

Before they could recover from their surprise he had torn a 
sword from one of them, and, whirling it round his head, he 
drove them back, and clasping Mary Dell’s waist, stood with 
flashing' eyes, ready for the first who would attack. 

“ Is there no man here who will help?” he shouted. 


COMMODOKE JUJfK. 


243 


^‘Bedad thei^e cried Dinny, leaping upon the nearest, 
and in a moment tearing his weapon froni his hand. “If I 
die for it, captain, it shall be like a man.^^ 

Black Mazzard stood for a moment aghast at the daring dis- 
played. Then a grim look of savagery crossed his evil counte- 
nance, and he drew his sword. 

“Now, my lads,^^ he said, fiercely, “it^s three ropes we 
want, I see. Come on.'^ 

He made a rush forward, followed by his men; but at this 
moment a solitary shot flashed from the folds of the curtain, 
and as the report reverberated through the great stone cham- 
ber, Black Mazzard spun round as if upon a pivot, and fell 
with a heavy thud upon the floor. 

His men paused in their onslaught, appalled by the sudden- 
ness of their leader^s fall; but as they saw Bart come forward, 
piece in hand, their hesitation turned to rage, and they ad- 
vanced once more to the attack. 

“ Good-bye whispered Humphrey, bending for a moment 
over Mary, who clung to him, her eyes fixed on his with a long- 
ing, despairing gaze, and then, as he thrust her back, the at- 
tack began. 

The odds were about eight to one, and the issue could not 
for a moment be in doubt; but hardly had sword met sword, 
and blow been exchanged, when a ringing cheer arose, and 
with a rush a couple of dozen well-armed sailors dashed in by 
corridor and window, and the tables were completely turned. 

There was a rush made for the door, but those who tried in 
that direction were driven back; while half a dozen who backed 
into a corner of the great chamber, as if desperately deter- 
mined to sell their lives dearly, were boldly attacked and beaten 
down, the whole party being reduced from the savage band of 
followers of the dead ruffian at their feet to a herd of helpless 
prisoners, abject to a degree. 

Humphrey saw nothing of this, only that they were saved; 
for, dropping his sword, he sunk pn his knees by the side of 
her who lay back with her eyes fixed upon his, full of a long- 
ing, imploring look, whose import he read too well. 

He bent down closely to* her to take her hand in his, and 
started to find that it was cold; but there was vitality in it 
enough for the fingers to close upon his hand tightly, while 
the lips he kissed mpved slightly, and he heard as faintly as if 
just breathed! 

“ It is better so. 

“ No, no ! he panted. “ We are saved ! Mary — dearest — 

He said no more, for the longing look in those eye seemed 


^44 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


intensified, and the pupils dilated slowly to remain fixed and 
stern. 

It was the buccaneer^s last look on earth. 


CHAPTER XXXVIIL 

LAST WORDS. 

The officer who led the strong boat^s crew to the rescue, 
guided by some of Captain Armstrong’s men who had escaped 
weeks before and after terrible privations at last found help, 
drew back and signed to his followers. 

It was enough. Hats were doffed, and a strange silence 
reigned in the gloomy chamber as Humphrey knelt there hold- 
ing the dead hand in his till he was touched upon the shoulder, 
and looking up slowly, half-stunned by the event, it was to 
meet the pale, drawn face of Bart. 

‘‘ Do they know, captain?” he whispered, meaningly. 

For a few moments Humphrey did not realize the import of 
his question, till he turned and gazed down once more upon 
the stern, handsome face fixing rigidly in death. 

‘‘No,” he said, quickly, as he drew a handkerchief from his 
breast and softly spread it over the face of the dead. “ It is 
our secret— ours alone.” 

“ Hah!” sighed Bart, and be drew back for a moment, and 
then gave Humphrey an imploring look before advancing once 
more, going down upon his knee, and taking and kissing the 
cold hand lying across the motionless breast. 

“ Captain Humphrey Armstrong, I think?” said the officer 
of the rescuing party. 

“Yes,” said Humphrey, in a dreamy way. 

“We were just in time, it seems. ” 

“ Yes,” said Humphrey, with a dazed look. 

“ I’m glad you are safe, sir; and this is — ” 

He had not finished his sentence when one of Black Maz- 
zard’s men yelled out: ^ 

“ The commodore — our captain — sir!” 

“Once!” said Humphrey, roused by the ruffian’s words, 
and gazing sharply round; “ but' one who spared my life, sir. 
and with this poor fellow here defended me from that dead 
scoundrel and his gang!” 

As he spoke he spurned the body of Black Mazzard, who 
had hardly stirred since he received Bart’s bullet. 

“I am at your service. Captain Armstrong,” said the 
officer, “ and will take my instructions from you.” 

“ For the wretches taken in arms, sir, I have nothing to say; 


COMMODORE JUNK. 


346 


but for this poor wounded fellow, I ask proper help and pro- 
tection. I will be answerable for him.-’^ 

Barfc looked at him quickly and reeled slightly as he limped 
to his side. 

‘‘ Thank ye, captain, he said. I ought to hate you, but 
she loved you, and that^s enough for me. If I don’t see you 
again, sir — God bless you, and good-bye!’’ 

“ But we shall see each other again, Bart, and I hope — 
here, quick!” he cried; “help here; the poor fellow is faint- 
ing from loss of blood!” 

Bart was borne off to be tended by the surgeon, and Hum- 
phrey Armstrong stood gazing down at the motionless form at 
his feet. 

He did not speak for some minutes, and all around respect- 
ed his sorrow by standing aloof; but he turned at last to the 
officer: 

“ I ask honorable burial, sir, for the dead — dead to save my 
life.” 

The officer bowed gravely, and then turned away to give a 
few short, sharp orders to his men, who signed to their pris- 
oners. 

These were rapidly marched down to the boats, two and two, 
till it came to the turn of Dinny, who stood with Mrs. Green- 
heys, clinging to him, trembling with dread. 

“ Now, my fine fellow,” said the warrant officer who had 
the prisoners in charge; “ this way.” 

“ Sure, and ye’ll let me have a wurrud wid the captain 
first?” 

“No nonsense. Come along!” 

“ Shure an’ he’d like to shpake to me wan wurrud,” said 
Dinny. “ Wouldn’t ye, sor?” 

Humphrey, who was standing with his arms folded, wrapped 
in thought, looked up sharply on hearing the familiar tones of 
the Irishman’s voice. 

“ There, what did I tell ye, sor?” he cried. “ Sure, an’ 
I’m not a buccaneer by trade — only a prishner.” 

Humphrey strode up, for Mrs. Greenheys had run to him 
with clasped hands. 

“ I’d take it kindly of ye, sor, if ye’d explain me position to 
these gintlemen— that I’m not an inimy, but a friend.” 

“ Yes,” said Humphrey, turning to the officer in command; 
“ a very good friend to me, sir, and one who would be glad to 
serve the king. ” 

“ Or anny wan else who’d behave dacently to him.” 


246 


COMMODORE JUNE. 


“ Let him tend his companion,” said Humphrey. “ He is 
a good nurse for a wounded man.^"' 

Mistress Greenheys caught Humphrey's hand and kissed it. 

“ But she would have betrayed us,” he said to himself, as 
he looked down into the little woman’s tearful face; “ still, it 
was for the sake of the man she loved.” ^ 

That night, covered with the English flag, which she had so 
often defied, the so-called Commodore Junk was borne to the 
resting-place selected by Humphrey Armstrong. 

It was a solemn scene as the roughly made bier was borne 
by lantern light through the dark arcade of the forest, and the 
sailors looked up wonderingly at the strange aspect of the 
moldering old pile. 

But their wonder increased as they entered the gloomy tem- 
ple, and the yellow light of their lanterns fell upon the flag- 
draped coffin in the center, and the weird-looking figures 
seated round. 

Side by side with the remains of her brother, Mary Dell was 
laid and then draped with the same flag, spread by Humphrey 
Armstrong’s hands, the picture exciting the wonder of the 
officer in command, to whom it all seemed mysterious and 
strange. Greater wonder than all, though, was that Hum- 
phrey Armstrong, lately a prisoner of the famous buccaneer 
who had been laid to rest, should display such deep emotion 
as he slowly left the spot. 

As he stepped outside volleys were fired by thR men, and as 
the reports of the pieces rumbled through the antique build- 
ing, and echoed in the cavernous cenote, the reverberation 
loosened some portion of the roof over the vast reservoir, an 
avalanche of stone falling with a reverberating hollow splash, 
and a great bird fiew out and disappeared in the darkness 
overhead. 

Three days later, laden with the valuable plunder amassed 
by the buccaneers, and a vast amount consigned to the flames 
in pursuance of the orders to thoroughly destroy the hornets’ 
nest, the rescuing ship set sail, in company with the buccaneer’s 
fast schooner, the prize Humphrey Armstrong once longed to 
take into Dartmouth harbor. But the sight of the war-ship’s 
consort ‘ only gave him pain now as he lay in his berth or re- 
clined helplessly on deck, suSering from the serious fever which 
supervened. 

“ It’s a curious whim,” said the captain of the ship to his 
lieutenant. “ One would have thought he’d rather have had 


COMMODORE JUKK. 247 

a couple of decent sailors to tend him, and not those two fel- 
lows, who must have been regular pirates in their time. 

But it was so. Humphrey Armstrong was not content with- 
out Bart or Hinny at < his side all through his severe illness, 
which lasted till they were nearing home. 

During the voyage he learned by degrees the whole history 
of the escape of the relics of his crew, consequent upon the 
division in the camp and the chaotic state of discipline which 
obtained among the buccaneers during the latter days. He 
heard more, too, of their struggles to reach a port, and of the 
rescue which had been planned and successfully carried out. 

One evening, as Humphrey Armstrong sat on deck wonder- 
ing to himself that he could be so changed as to look with dis- 
taste upon the western shores of England, gilded by the even- 
ing sun, he became conscious of aipther presence close behind, 
and looking sharply round it was to see the haggard, worn face 
of Bart as he stood there, bent and terribly changed by mental 
suffering and his wounds. 

As he saw Humphrey Armstrong gaze wonderingly at him 
he raised one hand and pointed to the dimly seen cliff-line, 
ruddy in the western glow. 

“ Home, sir,'’^ he cried, hoarsely. 

“Yes, Bart, home,'’^ said Humphrey, gloomily. “What 
are you going to do?^^ 

“ You know best, sir. Prison or the rope?’^ 

Humphrey started sadly^ and held out his hand, which the 
rough fellow, after a momentary hesitation, took. 

“ Bart, my lad,^^ said Humphrey, “ why not take the old 
cottage and settle down to your former life? ’ I should like it 
if you^d do this thing. Will you?^^ 

“ Will I?"^ said the poor fellow, in suffocating tones. “ God 
bless you, sir! You’ve made me happier than I ever hoped 
to be again.” 

“ Take it or buy it, Bart, as soon as you reach home. I 
wish it done, only it is to be kept unchanged, as we two keep 
her secret.” 

A fortnight had passed, during which period Humphrey 
Armstrong had kept himself quite in seclusion, when in obedi- 
ence to a stern resolve he journeyed slowly up to town. 

He had good excuse for his dilatory ways, being still far 
from strong; but now he was bound on the task of performing 
what he told himself was his duty—that of going straight to 
Lady Jenny Wildersey, confessing everything in an open, man- 


248 


COMMODORE JUN^K. 


ly way, and begging her to set him free from the engagement 
he had made. 

“ I could not marry such a woman now,^^ he said to himself 
again and again; she would drive me mad 

It was a hard struggle, but he was determined to carry it 
through, and one morning he crossed the park and the Mall, 
and made his way straight into St. James’s Square. 

Everything looked the same, except himself, for he was 
bronzed and worn, and his countenance displayed a scar. But 
he was as brightly dressed as on the day he called to say fare- 
well, for he had had to attend at the admiral’s to give an ac- 
count of his proceedings, and had found, to his surprise, that 
not only was the loss of his ship condoned by the complete 
rooting out of the buccaneers, but he had been promoted, and 
was shortly to engage in another expedition, this time to the 
East. 

St. James’s Square looked just as of old, and the same serv- 
ant opened to his hasty knock and met him with a smile. 

He had come without sending notice, and he had made no 
inquiry since his landing, telling himself that it was better so; 
and now, strung up for his painful task, he strode into the 
great marble-paved hall. 

Ask Lady Jenny if she will see me — a private interview,” 
he said to the ponderous old butler who came forward as the 
footman closed the door. 

‘‘ Lady Jenny, sir? The countess is at the lakes with his 
lordship.” 

“ The countess! I said Lady Jenny.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the old butler, with a smile; we always 
speak of her young ladyship now as the countess. ” 

“ The countess! Why, you don’t mean — ” 

Yes, sir; she was married to the Earl of Winterleyton a 
year ago, sir. His lordship’s town house is 110 Queen Square, 
and Hallybury, Bassenthwaite, sir.” 

Oh!” said Humphrey, calmly; I have been to the West 
Indies, and had not heard the news.” 

He nodded good-humoredly to the old butler, and went off 
across the square. 

“ Now, it’s my belief,” said the old butler, “ that he"s an- 
other on ’em as her young ladyship was always a-leading on!” 

“ Thank Heaven!” said Humphrey, with a sigh of relief; 
and he went and behaved like an Englishman, for he walked 
straight to his club, ordered his dinner, and for the first time 
for months thoroughly enjoyed it; while as he sat afterward 
over the remains of his bottle of fine old Carbonell port — a 


COMMODORE JUKK. 


249 


wme that was likely to restore some of the lost blood to his 
veins — he filled his glass slowly, thought of his next expedi- 
tion, and that it with its earnest work would be the best remedy 
for a mind diseased, and made up his mind that if he could 
persuade him to leave his newly made wife he would have 
Dinny for one of his men. 

“ And old Bart, too, if he will serve, he said, half aloud. 
Then two or three times over, as a pretty, powdered and 
painted image, all silk and gewgaws and fiowers, filled his im- 
agination, “ What a release! Thank Heaven 
At last there was but one glass left in the bottle, and rais- 
ing the handled basket in which it reclined, he carefully poured 
it out and held it up, seeming to see in the candlelit ruby rays a 
torrid land, a sun-browned face, and two dark, imploring eyes 
gazing into his till they grew dewy, and all around him seemed 
to be blurred and dim. He was almost alone in the great 
club-room, for the various diners had risen and gone, and for 
the time being the long, gloomy place seemed to be the old 
prison chamber, with its stone altar and great carven idol gaz- 
ing stolidly down upon him as he said softly: 

“ Mary Dell! True woman! 1 shall never love again !’^ 

He drained the glass to the memory of Commodore Junk, 
and, stubborn Englishman to the last, he kept his word. 


THE END 


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2 Molly Bawn. “The Duchess” 20 

3 Mill on the Floss, The. By 

George Eliot 20 

4 Under Two Flags. By“Ouida” 20 

5 Admiral's Ward, The. By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

6 Portia. By “ The Duchess ”... 20 

7 File No. 113. By Emile Gaboriau 20 

8 East Lynne. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood. 1st and 2d half, each 20 
9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras. 

By “Ouida” 20 

10 Old Curiosity Shop, The. By 

Charles Dickens 20 

11 John Halifax. Gentleman. By 
Miss Mulock, 2 parrs, each. 20 

12 Other People’s Money. By 

Emile Gaboriau 20 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal. By Helen B. 

Mathers 10 

14 Airy Fairy Lilian. By “The 

Duchess” 10 

15 Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bront6 20 

16 Phyllis. By “The Duchess”.. 20 

17 Wooing O’t, The. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 

18 Shandon Bells. By Wm. Black 20 

19 Her Mother’s Sin. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

20 Within an Inch of His Life. 

By Emile Gaboriau 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These Times 

By Wm. Black 20 

22 David Copperfleld. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. 1 20 

20 David Copperfleld. By Charles 
Dickens. Vol. 11 20 


23 Pi;ince8S of Thule, A, By Will- 


iam Black 20 

24 Pickwick P^ers. By Charles 
Dickens, Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Pajiers. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. IT 20 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey. “ The Duchess.” 

(Large type edition) 20 

9.50 Mrs. Geoffrey. “The Duchess” 10 

26 Monsifeur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Vol. 1 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Vol. II 20 

27 Vanity Fair. By William M. 

Thackeray. ■ Two parts, each 20 

28 Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott. 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

30 Faith and Unfaith. By “The 

Duchess” 20 

31 Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

First half 20 

31 Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

Second half 20 

32 Land Leaguers, The. By An- 

thony Trollope 20 

33 Clique of Gold, The. By Emile 

Gaboriau 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot. First half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot. Second half 20 

35 Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss. 

M. E. Braddon 20 

36 Adam Bede. By George Eliot. 

In Two Parts, each 20 


37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles 
Dickens, la Two Parts, each 20 


2 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition, 


38 Widow Lerouge, The. By Emile 

Gaboriau 20 

89 In Silk Attire. By William Black 20 

40 Last Days of Pompeii, The. By 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

41 Oliver Twist. By Chas. Dickens 20 

42 Romola. By George Eliot 20 

43 Mystery of Orcival, The. By 

Emile Gaboriau 20 

44 Macleod of Dare. Wm. Black. 20 

45 Little Pilgrim, A. By Mrs. Oii- 

phant 10 

46 Very Hard Cash. By Chaides 

Reade 20 

47 Altiora Peto. By Laurence Oh- 

phant 20 

48 Thicker Than Water. By James 

Payn 20 

49 That Beautiful Wretch. By 

William Black 20 

50 Strange Adventures of a Phae- 

ton, The. By William Black. 20 

61 Dora Thorne. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme 20 

62 New Magdalen, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

53 Story of Ida, The. By Francesca 10 
64 Broken Wedding-Ring, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

55 Three Guardsmen, The. By 
Alexander Dumas 20 

66 Phantom Fortune. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

67 Shirley. By Charlotte Bront6. 20 
58 By the Gate of the Sea. By D. 

Christie Murray 10 

69 Vice Versfi,. By F. Anstey 20 

60 Last of the Mohicans, The. By 

J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

61 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. 

Rowson 10 

62 Executor, The. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 

63 Spy, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper .K. 20 

64 Maiden Fair, A. Charles Gibbon 10 

65 Back to the Old Home. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 10 

66 Romance of a Poor VoungMan, 

The. By Octave Feuillet 10 

67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 

more. First half 20 

67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 

more. Second half 20 

68 Queen Amongst Women, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne” 10 

69 Madolin’s Lover. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne” 20 

70 White Wings : A Yachting Ro- 

mance. By William Black . . 10 

71 Struggle for Fame, A. By Mrs. 

J. H. Riddell 20 

72 Old Myddelton’s Money. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 20 


Redeemed by Love; or. Love’s 
Victory. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

Aurora Floyd. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

Twenty Years After. By Alex- 
ander Dumas 20 

Wife in Name Only^ or, A Bro- 
ken Heart. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

Tale of Two Cities, A. By 

Charles Dickens 20 

Madcap Violet. By Wm. Black 20 
Wedded and Parted. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

June. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

Daughter of Heth, A. By Will- 
iam Black 20 

Sealed Lips. F. Du Boisgobey. 20 
Strange Story, A. By Sir E. 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

Hard Times. By Chas. Dickens 10 
Sea Queen, A. By W. Clark 

Russell 20 

Belinda. By Rhoda Broughton 20 

Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen. By Jules Verne 20 

Privateersman, The. By Cap- 
tain Marry at 20 

Red Eric, The. By R. M. Ballan- 

tyne 10 

Ernest Maltravers. By Sir E. Bul- 
wer Lytton 20 

Barnaby Rudge. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

Barnaby Rudge. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

Lord Lynne’s Choice. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 20 

Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 20 

Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 

Fire Brigade, The. By R. M. 

Ballantyne 10 

Erling the Bold. By R. M. Bal- 
lantyne 10 

All in a Garden Fair. By Wal- 
ter Besant 20 

Woman-Hater, A. By Charles 

Reade 20 

Barbara’s History. By Amelia 

B. Edwards 20 

20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. 

By Jules Verne ^ 

Second Thoughts. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

Moonstone, The. Wilkie Collins 20 
Rose Fleming. By Dora Russell 10 
Coral Pin, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. 1st half 20 

Coral Pin, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. 2d half 20 


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104 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 


3 


105 Noble Wife, A. John Saunders 20 

106 Jileak House. By Charles Dick- 

ens. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. By Charles Dick- 

ens. Second half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

108 Cricket on the Hearth, The. 

By Charles Dickens 10 

108 Doctor Marigold. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

109 Little Loo. By W. Clark Russell 20 

110 Under the Red Flag. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 10 

111 Little School-master Mark, The. 

By J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 Waters of Marah, The. By John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. By M. 

G. Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. By Mrs. C. 

J. Eiloart 20 

116 Diamond Cut Diamond. By. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

116 Moths. By “Ouida” 20 


117 Tale of the Shore and Ocean, A. 

By William H. G. Kingston.. 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

Eric Dering. “ The Duchess ” 10 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. 


By “The Duchess” 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. By Thomas Hughes. 20 

121 Maid of Athens. By Justin 

McCarthy 20 

122 lone Stewart. By Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton j 20 

123 Sweet is True Love. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

124 Three Feathers. By Wm. Black 20 

125 Monarch of Mincing Lane, The. 

By William Black 20 

126 Kilmeny. By William Black.. 20 

127 Adrian Bright. By Mrs. Caddy 20 

128 Afternoon, and Other Sketches. 

By “Ouida” 10 


129 Rossmoyne. By “The Duchess” 10 

130 Last of the Barons, The, By Sir 

E. Bulwer Lytton. 1st half.. 20 

130 Last of the Barons, The. By Sir 

E. Bulwer Lytton. 2d half.. 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 


Dickens. First half 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

133 Peter the Whaler. By William 

H. G. Kingston 10 


134 Witching Hour, The, and Other 

Stories. By “ The Duchess ”. 10 

135 Great Heiress, A : A Fortune in 

Seven Checks. By R. E. Fran- 

cillon 10 

Jt36 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 
Other Stories. By “ The 
Duclie.ss” , 10 


137 Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 


138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 

By Wm. Black 20 

139 Romantic Adventures of a Milk- 

maid. The. By Thomas Hardy 10 

140 Glorious Fortune, A. By Wal- 

ter Besant 10 

141 She Loved Him! By Annie 

Thomas 10 

142 Jenifer. By Annie Thomas 20 

143 One False, Both Fair. By John 

B. Harwood 20 

144 Promises of Marriage. By Emile 

Gaboriau 10 


145 “ Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man. By Robert Buchanan. 20 

146 Love Finds the Way, and Other 

Stories. By Walter Besant 


and James Rice 10 

147 Rachel Ray. By Anthony Troll- 

ope 20 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “Dora Thorne” 10 

149 Captain’s Daughter, The. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

150 For Himself Alone. By T. W. 

Speight 10 

151 Ducie Diamonds, The. By C. 

Blatherwick. . . ' 10 

152 Uncommercial Traveler, The. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

153 Golden Calf, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

154 Annan Water. By Robert Buch- 

anan 20 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret. By Jean 

Middlemas 20 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” By Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

157 Milly’sHero. By F. W. Robinson ^ 

158 Starling, The. By Norman 

Macleod. D.D 10 

159 Captain Norton’s Diary, and 

A Moment of Madness. By 
Florence Marryat 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. By Sarah 

Tytler 10 

161 Lady of Lyons, The. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 
Lord Lytton 10 

162 Eugene Aram. By Sir E. Bulwer 

Lytton 20 

163 Winifred Power. By Joyce Dar- 

rell 20 

164 Leila ; or. The Siege of Grenada. 

By IBulwer Lytton 10 

165 History of Henry Esmond, The. 

By William ^I. Thackeray. . . 20 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites. 

By “The Duchess” 10 

167 Heart and Science. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 Haunted Man, The. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

170 A Great Treason. By Mary 

Hoppus. First half 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition, 


1 


170 A Great Treason. By Mary 

Hoppus. Second half 20 

171 Fortune’s Wheel. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

172 “ Golden Girls.” By Alan Muir 20 

173 Foreigners, The. By Eleanor C. 

Price 20 

174 Under a Ban. By Mi-s. Lodge. 20 

175 Love’s Random Shot. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

176 An April Day. By Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson 10 

177 Salem Chapel. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 

of a Life in the Highlands. 

By Queen Victoria 10 

179 Little Make-Believe. By B. L. 

Farjeon 10 

180 Round the Galley Fire. By W. 

Clark Russell 10 

181 New Abelard, The. By Robert 

Buchanan 10 

182 Millionaire, The 20 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other Sto- 

ries. By Florence Marryat.. 10 

184 Thirlby Hall. By W. E. Norris 20 

185 Dita. By Lady Margaret Ma- 

jendie 10 

186 Canon’s Ward, The. By James 

Payn 20 

187 Midnight Sun, The. By Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

188 Idonea. By Anne Beale 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate. By Mrs. Alex- 


X\J 

190 Romance of a Black Veil. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
ot “Dora Thorne” 10 

191 Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 

Lever 20 

192 At the World’s Mercy. By F. 

Warden 10 

193 Rosery Folk, The. By G. Man- 

ville Fenn 10 

194 “So Near, and Yet So Far!” 

By Alison 10 

195 “Way of the World, The.” By 

David Christie Murray 20 

196 Hidden Perils. Mary Cecil Hay SO 

197 For Her Dear Sake. By Mary 

Cecil Hay.^ 20 

198 Husband’s Story, A 10 

199 Fisher Village, The. By Anne 

Beale 10 

200 An Old Man’s Love. By Anthony 

Trollope 10 

201 Monastery, The. By Sir Walter ’ 

Scott 20 

202 Abbot, The. Sequel to “The 

Monastery.” By Sir Walter 
Scott 20 

203 John Bull and His Island. By 

Max O’Rell 10 

204 Vixen. By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

205 Minister’s Wife, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 30 

206 Picture, The, and Jack of All 

Trades. By Charles Reade. .. 10 


207 Pretty Miss Neville. By B. M. 

Croker 20 

208 Ghost of Charlotte Cray, The, 

and Other Stories. By Flor- 


iixoLi i y • iv 

209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate. 

By W. Clark Russell 10 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 

rent Events. By Chas. Reade 10 

211 Octoroon, The. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 10 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish 

Dragoon. By Charles Lever. • 
First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish 

Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 
Second half 20 

213 Terrible Temptation, A. By 

Chas. Reade 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place. By 

Charles Reade 20 


215 Not Like Other Girls. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey 

216 Foul Play. By Charles Reade. 

217 Man She Cared For, The. By 

F, W. Robinson 

218 Agnes Sorel. By G. P. R. James 

219 Lady Clare ; or. The Master of 

the Forges, From the French 
of Georges Ohnet 

220 Which Loved Him Best? By* 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 

221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye. By Helen 

B. Mathers 

222 Sun-Maid, The. By Miss Grant 

223 Sailor’s Sweetheart, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 

224 Arundel Motto, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 

225 Giant’s Robe, The. By F. Anstey 

226 Friendship. By “Ouida” 

227 Nancy. Ry Rhoda Broughton. 

228 Princess Napraxine. “ Ouida ” 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? By 

Mrs. .Alexander 

230 Dorothy Forster. By WAlter 

Besant 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy. 

By Charles Reade 

232 Love and Money; or, A Peril- 

ous Secret. By Chas. Reade. 

233 “ I Say No ;” or. The Love-Let- 

ter Answered. By Wilkie Col- 
lins 

234 Barbara; or. Splendid Misery. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 

235 “ It is Never Too Late to Mend.” 

By Charles Reade 

236 Which Shall It Be? By Mrs. 

Alexander 

237 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 

238 Pascarel. By “Ouida” 

239 Signa. By “Ouida” 

240 Called Back. By Hugh Conway 

241 Baby’s Grandmother, The. By 

^ ^B, Walford. . . 10 


^ ^ B ^ B B B BBBBB B BB ^ O BB BB 


THE SEASroE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


5 


243 Two Orphans, The. By D’En- 
nery 

343 Tom Burke of “ Ours.” By 

Charles Lever. First half... 
243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 
Charles Lever. Second half. 

344 Great Mistake, A. By the author 

of “ Cherry ” 

345 Miss Tommy. By Miss Mulock 

346 Fatal Dower, A. By the Author 

of “ His Wedded Wife ” 

347 Armourer’s Prentices, The. By 

Charlotte M. Yonge 

348 House on the Marsh, The. By 

F. Warden 

349 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter.” 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “ Dora Thorne ” 

350 Sunshine and Roses ; or, Diana’s 

Discipline. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 

251 Daughter of the Stars, The, and 
Other Tales. By Hugh Con- 
way. author of “ Called 
Back ” 

253 Sinless Secret, A. By “ Rita ” 
353 Amazon, The. By Carl Vosmaer 

254 Wife’s Secret, The, and Fair but 

False. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”. .. 

255 Mystery, The. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 

ByL. B. Walford 

257 Beyond Recall. By Adeline Ser- 

geant 

258 Cousins. ByL. B. Walford 

^9 Bride of Monte- Cristo, The. A 

Sequel to “The Count of 
Monte-Cristo.” By Alexan- 
der Dumas 

260 Proper Pride. By B. M. Croker 

261 Fair Maid, A. By F. W. Robin- 

son 

262 Count of Monte-Cristo, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part I 
362 Count of Monte-Cristo, The. 
By Alexander Dumas. Part II 

263 An Ishmaelite. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 

264 Piedouche, a French Detective. 

By Fortund Du Boisgobey. . . 

265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 

Affairs and Other Advent- 
ures. By William Black — 

266 Water-Babies, The. A Fairy 

Tale for a Land-Baby. By the 
Rev. Charles Kingsley 

267 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 

Conspiracy. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride ; or. The Mi- 

ser’s Treasure. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller *. . . 

269 Lancaster’s Choice. By Mrs. 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 

270 Wandering Jew, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part I 


270 Wandering Jew, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part II 30 

271 Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Parti 30 

271 Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part II 30 

272 Little Savage, The. By Captain 

Marryat 10 

273 Love and Mirage; or. The Wait- 

ing on an Island. By M. 
Betham-Ed wards 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 

Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 
and Letters 10 

375 Three Brides, The. By Char- 

lotte M. Yonge 10 

376 Under the Lilies and Roses. 

By Florence Marryat (Mrs. 

Francis Lean) 10 

277 Surgeon’s Daughters, The, by 


Mrs. Henry Wood. A Man of 
His Word, by W. E. Norris. . . 10 

278 For Life and Love. By Alison. 10 

279 Rattlin, the Reefer. By Captain 

Marryat 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 

ciety. By Mrs. Forrester — 10 

281 Squire’s Legacy, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

283 Donal Grant. By George Mac- 

Donald 20 

383 Sin of a Lifetime, The, By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

284 Doris. By “ The Duchess ” . . • . 10 

285 Gambler’s Wife, The 20 

286 Deldee ; or. The Iron Hand. By 

F. Warden 20 

287 At War With Herself. ByChar- 

lolrte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

923 At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M, Braeme. (Large type 
edition) 30 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight; or 

From Out the Gloom, By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne"” 10 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 
type edition) 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 

True Light. By a “Brutal 
Saxon ” 10 

290 Nora’s Love Test. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

291 Love’s Warfare. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

293 Golden Heart, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

293 Shadow of a Sin, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braemq, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 


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THE SEASIDE LlBRAliY— Pocket Edition. 


948 Shadow of a Sin, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 

edition) 20 

294 Hilda; or, The False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme 10 

294 Lady Hutton’s Ward. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 10 

928 Hilda; or, The False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type) 20 

928 Lady Hutton’s Ward. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type) 20 

295 Woman’s War, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 10 

952 Woman’s War, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 
edition) 20 

296 Rose in Thorns, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 

riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

953 Hilary’s Folly; or, Her Mar- 

•riageVow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme. (Large type edition) 20 

298 Mitchelhurst Place. By Marga- 

ret Veley 10 

299 Fatal Lilies, The. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

301 Dark Days. By Hugh Conway 10 

302 Blatchford Bequest, The. By 

Hugh Conway, author of 
“Called Back” 10 

303 Ingledew House. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

804 In Cupid’s Net. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

305 Dead Heart, A. By Charlotte 

M, Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne”. 10 

306 Golden Dawn, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

307 Two Kisses. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

308 Beyond Pardon. C. M. Braeme 20 

309 Pathfinder, The. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

310 Prairie, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. 

By R. H. Dana, Jr 20 

312 Week in Killarney, A. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

313 Lover’s Creed, The, By Mrs. 


314 Peril, By Jessie Fothergill ... 20 

315 Mistletoe Bough, The. Edited 

by Miss M. E. Braddon 20 


316 Sw'orn to Silence; or. Aline 
. Rodney’s Secret. By Mrs, 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 

317 By Mead and Stream. By Chas. 

Gibbon 20 

318 Pioneers, The ; or. The Sources 

of the Susquehanna. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 

Fables. By R. E. Francillon. 10 

320 Bit of Human Nature, A. By 

David Christie Murray 10 

321 Prodigals, The : And Their In- 

heritance. By Mrs. Oliphant. 19 

322 Woman’s Love-Story, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

323 Willful Maid, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

324 In Luck at Last. By Walter 

Besant 10 

325 Portent, The. By George Mac- 

donald 10 

326 Phan tastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and W’omen. By 
George Macdonald 10 

327 Raymond’s Atonement. (From 

the German of E. Werner.) 

By Christina Tyrrell 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

(Translated from the French 
of Fortune Du Boisgobey.) 
First half 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

(Translated from the French 
of Fortune Du Boisgobey.) 
Second half 20 

329 Polish Jew% The. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) By Erckmann- 
Chatrian 10 


330 May Blossom : or, Betw'e<»n Two 

Loves. By Margaret Lee 20 

331 Gerald, By Eleanor C. Price . . 20 

332 Judith Wynne. By author of 

“ Lady Lovelace ” 20 

333 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 

From the Life of a Private 
Pupil. By Frank E. Smedley 20 

334 Marriage of Convenience, A. 

By Harriott Jay 10 

335 White Witch, The. A Novel. . . 20 

336 Philistia. By Cecil Power 20 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 

Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Fendie. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

838 Family Difficulty, The. By Sa- 
rah Doudney 10 

339 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid. 

By Mrs. Alexander... 10 

340 Under Which King? By Comp- 

’ton Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

By Laura Jean Libbey 20 

842 Baby, The. By “ The Duchess ” 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 


S43 Talk of the Town, The. By 

James Payn. 20 

341 “ Wearing: of the Green, The.” 

By Basil 20 

315 Madam. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm. By Alan 

Muir 10 

347 As Avon Flows. By Henry Scott 

A'^ince 20 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing: 

Romance. By Hawley Smart 20 
v>49 Two Admirals. Tiie. A Tale of 
the Sea. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

350 Diana of the Crossw'ays. By 

George Mer-edith 10 

351 House on the Moor, The. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

352 At Any Cost. Bj' Edw. Garrett 10 

353 Black Dwarf, The. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

354 Lottery of Life, The. A Story 

of New^ York Twenty Years 
Ago. By John Brougham .. 20 

355 That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Nori-is 10 

356 Good Hater, A. By Frederick 

Boyle 20 

357 .John. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

858 Within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 
wick Harwood 20 

359 Water-Witch, The. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

360 Ropes of Sand. By R. E. Francil- 

lon 20 

361 Red Rover, The. A Tale of the 

Sea. By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

362 Bride of Lammermoor, The. 

By Sir Walter Scott 20 

363 Surgeon's Daughter, The. By 

Sir Walter Scott. . 10 

364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 

ter Scott 10 

865 George Christy; or. The Fort- 

unes of a Minstrel. By Tony 
Pastor 20 

866 Mysterious Hunter, The; or,- 

The Man of Death. By Capt. 

L. C. Carleton 20 


367 Tie and Trick. By Hawley Smart 20 
868 Southern Star, The ; or. The Dia- 
mond Land. By Jules Verne 20 
369 Miss Bretherton. By Mrs. Hum- 


phry Ward 10 

870 Lucy Crofton. By Sirs. Oliphant 10 

871 Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

372 Phyllis’ Probation. By the au- 
thor of “ His Wedded Wife ”. 10 
873 Wing-and-Wing. By J. Feni- 
more Cooper 20 


374 Dead Man’s Secret, The ; or. The 
Adventures of a Medical Stu- 
dent. By Dr. Jupiter Paeon. . 20 
875 Ride to Khiva, A, By Captain 
Fred Burnaby, of the Royal 
Horse Guards 20 


• * 

i 


876 Crime of Christmas Day, The, 


By the author of “ My Ducats 
and My Daughter ” 10 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation. By 
Mrs. Oliphant .*. 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or. The 

Chase. By J. F. Cooper 20 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel tp 

“ Homeward Bound.”) ByJ. 
Fenimore Coopi-r 20 

380 Wyandotte; or. The Hutted 

Knoll. ByJ. Fenimore Cooper 20 

381 Red Cardinal, The. By Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters: or. Sketches of 

a Highly Original Family. 

By Elsa D’Esterre-Keeling. . . 10 

383 Introduced to Society. By Ham- 

ilton Aid6 '. ..< 10 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor. By Captain Fred Bur- 
naby 20 

385 Headsman, The; or. The Ah- 

baye des Vignerous. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper ".... 20 

386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 

Comtesse.” Octave Feuillet. 10 

387 Secret of the Cliffs, The. By 

Charlotte French '. 20 

388 Addie’s Husband; or. Through 

Clouds to Sunshine. By the 
author of “ Love or Lands?”. 10 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. B3’ Bertha 

Thomas 10 

390 Mildred Trevanion. By “The 

Duchess ” 10 

391 Heart of Mid-Lothian, The. By 

Sir Walter Scott 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak, By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

393 Pirate, The. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

394 Bravo, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper. 20 

395 Archipelago on Fire, The. By 

Jules Verne 10 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement. *y 

Rosa Nouchette Carey . 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln : or, The Leaguer 

of Boston. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 

By Robert Buyhanan 10 

399 Miss Brown. By Vernon Lee.. 20 

400 Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish, The. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

401 Waverley. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

402 Lilliesleaf: or. Passages in the 

Life of Mrs. Margaret IMait- 
land of Sunnyside. By Mrs. 
Oliphant 20 

403 An English Squire. B3' C. R. 

Coleridge 20 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 10 

405 Dly Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

406 Merchant’s Clerk, The. By Sam- 

uel Warren 10 


8 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


407 Tylney Hall, By Thomas Hood* 20 

408 Lester’s Secret. By Mary Cecil 

Hay 20 

409 Roy’s Wife. By G. J. Whyte- 

Melville 20 

410 Old Lady Mary. By Mrs. Oli- 

phant 10 

411 Bitter Atonement, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

412 Some One Else. By B. M. Croker 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore. By J. Fen- 

imore Cooper 20 

414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

“ Afloat and Ashore.”) By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

415 Ways of the Hour, The. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

416 Jack/Tier ; or. The Florida Reef. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

417 Fair Maid of Perth, The; or, 

St. Valentine’s Day. By Sir 
Walter Scott 20 

418 St. Ronan’s Well. By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

419 Chainbearer, The; or. The Lit- 

tlepage Manuscripts. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

420 Satanstoe; or, The Littlepage 

Manuscripts, By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

421 Redskins, The; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts, 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

422 Precaution. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

423 Sea Lions, The; or. The Lost 

Sealers. By J. F. Cooper 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or, Tne 

V oyagfe to Cathay. By J, Fen- 
imore Cooper 20 

425 Oak-Openings, The; or. The 

Bee-Hunter. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

42(k Venus’s Doves. By Ida Ash- 

^ worth Taylor 20 

427 Remarkable History of Sir 
Thomas Upmore, Bart., M.P., 
The. Formerly known as 
“Tommy Upmore.” By R. 

D. Blackmore , 20 

488 Z6ro: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 

By Mrs. Campbell-Praed 10 

429 Boulderstone; or. New Men and 

Old Populations. By W. Sime 10 

430 Bitter Reckoning, A. By the au- 

thor of “ By Crooked Paths ” 10 


431 Monikins, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

432 Witch’s Head, The. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

433 My Sister Kate. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

434 Wyllard’s Weird. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. By George Taylor. . . 20 


Stella. By Fanny Lewald 20 

Life and Adventures of Martin 
ChuKzlewit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 20 

Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 

Found Out. By Helen B. 

Mathers 10 

Great Expectations. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings. B.v 

Charles Dickens 10 

Sea Change, A. By Flora L. 

Shaw 20 

Ranthorpe. By George Henr}’ 

Lewes 20 

Bachelor of the Albany, The. . . 10 
Heart of Jane Warner’ The. B\' 

Florence Marryat 20 

Shadow of a Crime, The. By 

Hall Caine 20 

Dame Durden. By “ Rita ”... 20 
American Notes. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

Pictures From Italy, and The 
Mudfog Papers, &c. By Chas. 

Dickens 2(1 

Peeress and Pla3’er. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

Godfrey He'lstone. Bj* Georgi- 

ana M. Craik 20 

Market Harborough, and Inside 
the Bar. G. J. Whyte-Melville 20 
In the West Countrie. By May 

Crommelin 20 

Lottery Ticket, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey ... 20 

Mystery of Edwin Drood, The. 

By Chas. Dickens . ... 20 

Lazarus in London. By F. W. 

Robinson 20 

Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day Life and Every- 
day People. By Charles Dick- 
ens 20 

Russians at the Gates of Herat, 
The. By Charles Marvin . ... 10 
Week of Passion, A; or. The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
ton the Younger. By Edward 

Jenkins 20 

Woman’s Temptation, A. By 
Charlotte M, Braeme. (Large 

type edition). 20 

Woman’s Temptation, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” U1 

Under a Shadow. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

His Wedded Wife, By author 

of “ A Fatal Dower ’’ 20 

Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land, By Lewis Carroll. Witn 
forts’^ - two illustrations by 

John Tenniel 20 

Redgauntlet. By Sir Walter 
Scott 20 


436 

437 

437 

438 

489 

440 

441 

442 

443 

444 

445 

446 

447 

448 

449 

450 

451 

452 

453 

454. 

455 

456 

457 

458 

459 

951 

460 

461 : 

462 

463 : 


THE seaside library— Pocket EDiTioiT. 


464 Newcomes, The, By William 
Makepeace Thackeray. Part 

1 20 

464 Newcomes, The, By William 
Makepeace Thackeray. Part 
II 20 

466 Earl’s Atonement, The. By 

Charlotte M, Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

468 Between Two Loves. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne’’ 20 

467 Struggle for a Ring, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ’’ 20 

4fi6 Fortunes, Good and Bad, of a 
Sewing-Girl, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Stanley 10 

469 Lady Darner’s Secret: or, A 

Guiding Star. By Charlotte 
M, Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne’’ 20 

470 Evelyn’s Foll}^ By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ’’ 20 

471 Thrown on the World. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ’’ 20 

472 Wise Women of Inverness, 

The. By Wm. Black 10 

473 Lost Son, A. By Mary Linskill. 10 

474 Serapis. By George Ebers 20 

475 Prima Donna’s Husband, The. 20 

By F. Du Boisgobej'- 

476 Between Two Sins; or. Married 

in Haste. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ’’ 10 

477 Affinities. A Romance of To- 

day. By Mrs. Campbell-Praed 10 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 

ter. By Miss M. E, Braddon. 
Part 1 20 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 

ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
Part II ’ 20 

479 Louisa. By Katharine S. Mac- 

quoid 20 

480 Married in Haste, Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon .. 20 

481 House That Jack Built, The. 

By Alison 10 

482 Vagrant Wife, A. By F. Warden 20 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 

the author of “A Golden Bar ’’ 10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 

Other Tales. Mrs. Forrester. 10 

485 Tinted Vapours. By J. Maclaren 

• Cobban 10 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart. By “ The 

Duchess ’’ 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

489 Rupert Godwin. By Miss M. E, 

Braddon 20 

490 Second Life, A. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 


491 Society in London. By a For- 

eign Resident 10 

492 Mignon; or. Booties’ Baby, By 

J. S. Winter. Illustrated 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. By 

Lucas M^et 20 

494 Maiden All Forlorn, A, and Bar- 

bara. By “ The Duchess ’’. . . 10 

495 Mount Royal. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 90 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E, Braddon 20 

497 Lady’s Mile, The. By Miss M, 

E. Braddon 20 

498 Only a Clod. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

499 Cloven Foot, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 


500 Adrian Vidal. By W, E. Norris 20 

501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. By F. Mabel 

Robinson... 20 

502 Carriston’s Gift. By Hugh 

Conway, author of “Called 
Back ” 10 

503 Tinted Venus, The. By F. Anstey 10 

504 Curly: An Actor’s Story. By 

John Coleman. Illustrated. 10 

505 Society of London, The. By 

Count Paul Vasili 10 

506 Lady Lovelace, l^y the author 

of “Judith Wynne’’ 20 

507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 

and Other Stories. By Sir 
Walter Scott 10 

508 Unholy Wish, The. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 10 

509 Nell Haffenden. By Tighe Hop- 

kins 20 

510 Mad Love, A. By the author of 

“Lover and Lord” 10 

511 Strange World, A. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

512 Waters of Hercules, The 20 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 

Other Tales. By Mrs. Henry 
Wood 10 

514 Mystery of Jessy Page, The, 

and Other ' Tales. By Mrs, 
Henry Wood 10 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant. By Miss 

M.E. Braddon 20 

516 Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 90 

517 Passive Crime, A, and Other 
Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 10 

518 Hidden Sin, The. A Novel. .... 90 

519 James Gordon’s Wife, A Novel 90 

520 She’s All the World to Me, By 

Hall Caine 10 

521 Entangled. By E. Fairfax 

Byrrne 20 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or. The 

Steel Gauntlets. By F, Du 
Boisgobey 90 

523 Consequences of a Duel, The. 

Du Boisgobey 96 


10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY— Pocket Edition. 


B24 Strangers and Pilgrims. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

625 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories. 

By Hugh Conway, author of 

“Called Back” 10 

586 Madame De Presnel. By E. 

Frances Poyi#er 20 

527 Days of My Life. The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant. ., 20 

528 At His Gates. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

529 Doctor’s Wife, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

630 Pair of Blue Eyes, A. By Thom- 
as Hardy 20 

#31 Prime Minister, The. By An- 
thony Trollope. First Half.. 20 
531 Prime Minister, The. By An- 
thony Trollope. Second Half 20 
632 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 
533 Hazel Kirke. By Marie Walsh 20 

634 Jack. By Alphonse Daudet 20 

635 Henrietta’s Wish; or. Domi- 

neering. By Charlotte M. 
Yonge 10 

636 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 

drew Lang 10 

637 Piccadilly. Laurence Oliphant 10 


538 Fair Country Maid, A. By E. 

Fairfax Byrrne 20 

639 Silvermead. By Jean Middle- 

mas 20 

540 At a High Price. By E. Werner 20 

641 “As it Fell Upon a Day,” by 

“The Duchess,” and Uncle 
Jack, by Walter Besant 10 

642 Fenton’s Quest. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

643 Family Affair, A. By Hugh 

Conway, author of “ Called 
Back” 20 

644 Cut b}’ the County: or, Grace 

Darnel. By Miss M. E. Brad- 
don 10 

645 Vida's Story. By author of 

“ Guilty Without Crime ” 10 

646 Mrs. Keith’s Crime 10 

547 Coquette’s Conquest, A. By 

Basil 20 

648 Fatal Marriage, A, and The 
Shadow in the Corner. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

#49 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 
er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey. ByMissM. E. 

Braddon 10 

550 Struck Down. By Hawley Smart 10 
561 Barbara Heathcote's Trial. By 
Rosa N. Carey. 2 parts, each 20 
552 Hostages to Fortune. By Miss 
M. E. Braddon 20 

653 Birds of Prey. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

654 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (A Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey.”) By 
Miss M. E. Braddon. . . 20 


655 Cara Roma. By Miss Grant 20 

556 Prince of Darkness, A. By F. 
Warden 20 


557 To the Bitter End. By Miss M. 

E, Braddon 20 

558 Poverty Corner. By G. Manville 

Fenn 20 

559 Taken at the Flood. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

560 Asphodel. By Miss M. E. Brad- 

don 20 

561 Just As I Am; or, A Living Lie. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

562 Lewis Arundel; or. The Rail- 

road of Life. By Fi-ank E. 
Sniedley 20 

563 Two Sides of the Shield, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

664 At Bay. By Mrs. Alexander. . . 10 

565 No Medium. By Annie Thomas 10 

566 Royal Highlanders, Tlie; or. 

The Black Watch in Egypt. 

By James Grant 20 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

568 Perpetual Curate, The. By Mrs. 

oliphant 20 

569 Harry Muir. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

570 Joiin Marchmont’s Legacy. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

571 Paul Carew's Sloiy. By Alice 

Comyns Carr 10 

572 Healey. By Jessie Fothergill. 20 

573 Love's Harvest. B. L. Fai'jeon 20 

574 Nabob, The: A Story of Paris- 

ian Life and Manners. By Al- 


phonse Daudet 20 

575 Finger of Fate, The. By Cap- 

tain Mayne Reid 20 

576 Her Martyrdom. By Cliarlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

577 In Peril and Privation. By 

James Payn 10 


578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Parti. 10 
578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Part II 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Part III 10 

579 Flower of Doom, The, and 

Other Stories. By M. Betham- 


Edwards lO 

580 Red Route, The. By William 

Sime 20 

581 Betrothed, The. (I Promessi 

Sposi,) Alessandro Manioni. 20 

582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. Bv^ 

Mrs. J. H. Needell 20 

583 Victory Deane. By Cecil (jriffith 20 

584 Mixed Motives 10 

585 Drawn Game. A. By Basil 20 

586 “For Percival.” By Margaret 

Veley 20 

587 Parson o’ Dumford, The. By 

G. Manville Fenn 20 

588 Cherry. By the author of “A 

Great Mistake” 10 

589 Luck of the Darrells, The. By 

James Payn. 20 

590 Courting of Mary Smith, Thd. 

By P. W. Robinson. 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY- Pocket Edition. 


It 


691 Queen of Hearts, The. By Wil- 


kie Collins 20 

502 Strange Voyage, A. By W. 
Clark Russell 20 

693 Berna Boyle. By Mrs. J. H. 

Riddell 20 

694 Doctor Jacob. By Miss Betham- 

Ed wards 20 

695 North Country Maid, A. By 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 20 

696 My Ducats and My Daughter. 

By the author of “ The Crime 
of Christmas Day” 20 

597 Haco the Dreamer. By William 

Sime... 10 

598 Corinna. By “Rita” 10 

699 Lancelot Ward, M.P. By George 

Temple 10 

600 Houp-La. By John Strange 

Winter. (Illustrated) 10 

601 Slings and Arrows, and other 

Stories. By Hugh Conway, 
author of “Called Back”... 10 


602 Camiola; A Girl With a Fortune. 

By Justin McCarthy 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 

Half • 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 

ond Half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modern 

Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 
Half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modern 

Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 
ond Half 20 

605 Ombra. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

606 Mrs. Hollyer. By Georgiana M. 

Craik 20 

607 Self-Doomed. By B. L. Farjeon 10 
^8 For Lilias. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey. In Two Parts, each . . 20 

609 Dark House, The : A Knot Un- 

raveled. By G. Manville Fenn 10 

610 Story of Dorothy Grape, The, 


and Other Tales. By Mrs. 
Henry Wood ; ’. .. 10 

611 Babylon. By Cecil Power 20 

612 My Wife’s Niece. By the author 

of “ Doctor Edith Romney ”. 20 

613 Ghost’s Touch, The. By Will^ie 

Collins 10 

614 No. 99. By Arthur Griffiths ... 10 

615 Mary Anerley. By R. D. Black- 

more. . 20 

616 Sacred Nugget, The. By B. L. 


617 Like Dian’s Kiss. By “ Rita ”. 20 

618 Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 

mas, 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

619 Joy; or. The Light of Cold- 

Home Ford. By May Crom- 
melin 20 

620 Between the Heather and the 

Nortliern Sea. By M. Linskill 20 

621 Warden, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 10 

622 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. By 

Ajxthony Trollop^- 10 


623 My Lady’s Money. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

624 Primus in ludis. By M. J. Col- 

quhoun 10 

625 Erema; or. My Father’s Sin. 

By R. D. Blackmore 20 

626 Fair Mystery, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Tliorne ” 20 

627 White Heather, By Wm. Black ^ 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 

of “ My Lady’s Folly ” 20 

629 Cripps, the Carrier. By R. D. 

Blackmore 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. First half 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. Second half 20 

631 Christowell. By R. D. Blackmore 20 

632 Clara Vaughan. ByR.D. Black- 

more 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 1st half 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 2d half 20 

634 Unforeseen, The. By Alice 

O’Hanlon 20 

635 Murder or Manslaughter? By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

636 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 1st half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 2d half 20 

637 What’s His Offence? By author 

of “The Two Miss Flemings ” 20 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 

Black Horse) Dragoons. By 
J. S. Winter 10 


639 Othmar. “Ouida.” 2 parts,each 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

641 Rabbi’s Spell, The. By Stuart 

C. Cumberland 10 

642 Britta. By George Temple 10 

643 Sketch-book of (leoflfrey Cray- 

on, Gent, The. By Welling- 
ton Irving 20 

644 Girton Girl, A. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains. By 

Rhoda Broughton 10 

646 Master of the Mine, The. By 

Robert Buchanan 20 

647 Goblin Gold. By May Crom- 

melin 10 

648 Angel of the Bells, The. By F. 

Du Boisgobey - . 20 

649 Cradle and Spade. By William 

Sime 20 

650 Alice; or. The Mysteries. (A Se- 

quel to “ Ernest Maltravers.”) 

By Sir E. Bulwer Lytton 20 

651 “ Self or Bearer.” By Walter 

Besant 10 

652 Lady With the Rubies, The. By 

E. Marlitt 20 

653 Barren Title, A. T. W. Speight 10 

654 “ Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 

By Mrs. Moles worth 10 


12 


THE SEASIDE LIBHARY— Pocket Edition. 


665 Open Door, The. By Mrs. Oli- 

pliant.. 10 

656 Golden Flood, The. By R. E. 

Francillon and Wm. Senior. . 10 

657 Christmas Angel. By B. L. Far- 

jeon 10 

668 History of a Week, The. By 
Mrs. L. B. Walford 10 

659 Waif of the “Cynthia,” The. 

By Jules Verne 30 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 

Jane Porter. 1st half 20 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 

Jane Porter. 2d half 20 

661 Rainbow Gold. By David Chris- 

tie Murray — 20 

662 Mystery of Allan Grale, The. By 

Isabella Fyvie Mayo 20 

663 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover 20 

664 Rory O’More. By Samuel Lover 20 

665 Dove in the Eagle’s Nest, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

666 My Young Alcides. By Char- 

lotte M. Yonge 20 

667 Golden Lion of Granpere, The. 

By Anthony Trollope 20 

668 Half-Way. An Anglo-French 

Romance 20 

669 Philosophy of Whist, The. By 

William Pole 20 

670 Rose and the Ring, The. By 

W. M. Thackeray. Illustrated 10 

671 Don Gesualdo. By“Ouida.”.. 10 

672 In Maremma. By “ Ouida.” 1st 

half 20 

672 In Maremma. By “ Ouida.” 2d 

half 20 

673 Story of a Sin. By Helen B. 

Mathers 20 

674 First Person Singular. By Da- 

vid Christie Murray 20 

675 Mrs. Dymond. By Miss Thacke- 

ray 20 

676 Child’s History of England, A. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

677 Griselda. By the author of “ A 

Woman’s Love-Story ” 20 

678 Dorothy’s Venture. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

679 Where Two Ways Meet. By 

Sarah Doudney 10 

680 Fast and Loose. By Arthur 

Griffiths 20 

681 Singer’s Story, A. By May 

Laffan 10 

682 In the Middle Watch. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

683 Bachelor Vicar of Newforth, 

The. By Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe 20 

684 Last Days at Apswich 10 

685 England under Gladstone. 1880 

—1885. By Justin H. McCar- 
thy, M.P 20 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 

Mr. Hyde. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 10 

667 Country Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 
Oliphant, 30 


688 Man of Honor, A. By John 

Strange Winter. Illustrated. 10 

689 Heir Presumptive, The. By 


Florence Marry a* 20 

690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 

By Thomas Hardy 20 

691 Valentine Strange. By David 

Christie Murray 20 

692 Mikado, The. and other Comic 

Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 
Sullivan '. 20 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical. By 

George Eliot 20 

694 John Maidment. By Julian 

Sturgis 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 

Deuce. By David Christie 
Murray 20 

696 Tbaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss 

Jane Porter 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

698 Life’s Atonement, A. By David 

Christie Murray 20 

699 Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. 1st half ... 20 

699 Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. First half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. Second half 20 

701 Woman in White, The. Wilkie 

Collins. Illustrated. 1st half 20 

701 Womsfn in White, The. Wilkie 

Collins. Illustrated. 2d half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 

lins. First half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 

lins. Second half 20 

703 House Divided Against Itself, 

A. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

704 Prince Otto. By R. L. Steven- 

son 10 

705 Woman I Loved, The, and the 

Woman Who Loved Me. By 
Isa Blagden 10 

706 Crimson Stain, A. By Annie 

Bradshaw 10 

707 Silas Marner: The Weaver of 

Raveloe. By George Eliot. . . 10 

708 Ormond. By Maria Edgeworth 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 

myra. By William Ware. 
First half 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 

myra. By William Ware. 
Second half iQ 

710 Greatest Heiress in England, 

The. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

711 Cardinal Sin, A. By Hugh Con- 

way, author of “ Called 
Back” 30 

712 For Maimie’s Sake. By Grant 


Allen 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


(5 


ri3 “ Cherry Ripe.” By Helen B. 
Mathers 20 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty. By 

Tighe Hopkins 20 

715 I Have Lived and Loved. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, the Mar- 

riage V erdict. By Alexander 
Dumas 20 

718 Unfairly Won. By Mrs. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

By Lord Byron 10 

720 Paul Clifford. By Sir E. Bulwer 

Lytton, Bart 20 

721 Dolores. By Mrs. Forrester. . . 20 
728 What’s Mine’s Mine. By George 

Macdonald 20 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid 20 

721 My Lord and My Lady. By 

Mrs. Forrester. 20 

725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment.^ 


726 My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester.. 20 

727 P'air Women. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

728 Janet’s Repentance. By George 

Eliot 10 

729 Mignou. By Mrs. Forrester... 20 

730 Autobiography of Benjamin 

Franklin, The 10 

731 Bayou Bride. The. By Mrs. 

Mary E. Bryan 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades. By 

Mrs. Forrester. 20 

733 I.ady Branksmere. By ‘‘The 

Duchess” 20 

734 Viva. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

735 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emily Spender 20 

736 Roy and Viola. Mrs. Forrester 20 

737 Aunt Rachel. By David Christie 

Murray 10 

738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 

Lyall 20 

739 Caged Lion, The. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge. .• 20 

740 Rhona. By Mrs. Forrester 20 


741 Heiress of Hilldrop, The; or, - 

The Romance of a Young 
Girl. By Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of ” Dora Thorne ”... 20 

742 Love and Life. By Charlotte 


M. Yonge 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 
Russell. 1st half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 2d half 20 

744 Diana Carew ; or. For a Wom- 

an’s Sake. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 

gle for Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of ‘‘ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

746 Cavalry Life; or. Sketches and 
• Stories in Barracks and Out. 

By J. S, Winter 20 


747 Our Sensation .Novel. Edited 

by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. iO 

748 Hurrish : A Study. By the 

Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. By 

Mabel Collins 20 

750 An Old Story of My Farming 

Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half 20 


750 An Old Story of My Farming 

Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 

gators. Jules Verne. 1st half 80 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 

gators. Jules Verne. 2d half 20 

752 Jadcanapes, and Other Stories. 

By Juliana Horatio Ewing. . . 10 

753 King Solomon’s Mines. By H. 


Rider Haggard 20 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 

ried. By a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony 20 

755 Margery Daw. A Novel 20 

756 Strange Adventures of Captain 

Dangerous, The. By George 
Augustus Sala 20 

757 Love’s Martyr. By Laurence 

Alma Tadema 10 

758 ” Good-bye, Sweetheart I” By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

759 In Shallow Waters. By Annie 

Armitt 20 

760 Aurelian ; or. Rome in the Third 

Century. By William Ware. 20 

761 Will Wea therhelm. By William 

H. G. Kingston 20 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such. By George Eliot 10 

763 Midshipman, The, Marmaduke 

Merry. Wm. H. G. King.ston. 20 

764 Evil Genius, The, By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Well. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 


766 No. XIII. ; or, ’I’he Story of the 

Lost Vestal. Emma Marshall 10 

767 Joan. By Rhoda Broughton . . 20 

768 Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda 


Broughton 20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

770 Castle of Otranto, The. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

771 Mental Struggle, A. By “ The 

Duchess ” 30 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 

Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 

773 Mark of Cain, The, By Andrew 

Lang 10 

774 Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park, The 10 

775 Three Clerks, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 20 

776 Pdre Goriot. By H, De Balzac 20 

777 Voyages and Travels of Sir 

John Maundeville, Kt., The.. 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. By the au- 

thor of “ My Marriage ” 20 

779 Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. 


.By Justin H. McCftPjtiUy, M.P, 10 


14 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 


780 Rare Pale Mai-garet. By the au- 

thor of “ What’s His Offeuce?” 20 

781 Secret Dispatch, The. By James 


Grant 10 

782 Closed Door, The. By F. Du 
Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

782 Closed Door, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

783 Chantry House. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

784 Two Miss Flemings, The. By au- 

thor of “ What’s His Offeuce?” 20 

785 Haunted Chamber, The. By 

“ The Duchess ” 10 

788 Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. By 
author of “ Petite’s Romance ” 20 

787 Court Royal. A Story of Cross 

Currents. By S. Baring-Gould 20 

788 Absentee, The. An Irish Story. 

By Maria Edgeworth 20 

789 Through the Looking-Glass, 

and What Alice Found There. 

By Lewis Carroll. With fifty 
illustrations by John Tenniel. 20 


790 Chaplet of Pearls, The; or, The 
White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 

790 Chaplet of Pearls, The; or. The 

White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 

791 Mayor of Casterbridge, The. By 


Thomas Hardy 20 

792 Set in Diamonds. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne” 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. First half 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Second half. . . 20 

794 Beaton’s Bargain. By Mrs. Al- 

exander 20 

795 Sam’s Sweetheart. By Helen 

B. Mathers 20 

796 In a Grass Country. By Mrs. 

H. Lovett Cameron 20 


797 Look Before You Leap. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

798 Fasliion of this World, The. By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

799 My Lady Glreen Sleeves. By 

Helen B. Mathers 20 

800 Hoptis and Fears; or. Scenes 

from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M.- Yonge. l.st half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears: or. Scenes 

from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 

801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 

The Good-Natured Man. By 
Oliver Goldsmith 10 

802 Stern Chase, A. By Mrs.Cashel- 

Hoey 20 

803 Major Frank. By A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

804 Living or Dead. By Hugh Con- 

way, author of “Called Back ” 20 


805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander, ■*st half 20 

805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. 2d half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. First half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. Second half 20 

807 If LovaiBe Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 

808 King Arthur. Not a Love Story. 

By Miss Mulock 20 

809 Witness My Hand. By the au- 

thor of ‘‘ Lady Gwendolen’s 
Tryst ” 10 

810 Secret of Her Life, The. . By Ed- 

ward Jenkins ; . 20 

811 Head Station, The, By Mrs. 

Campbell-Praed 20 

812 No Saint. By Adeline Sergeant 20 

813 Army Society. Life in a Garri- 

son Town. By John Strange 
Winter 10 

814 Heritage of Langdale, The. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

815 Ralph W’ilton’s Weird. By Mrs. 

Alexander 10 

816 Rogues and Vagabonds. By 

George R. Sims, author of 

817 Stabbed in the Dark. By Mrs. 

E. Lynn Linton 10 

818 Pluck. By John Strange Winter 10 

819 Fallen Idol, A. By F. Anstey. .. 20 

820 Doris’s Fortune. By Florence 

Warden.. 20 

821 World Between Them, The, By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne.” 20 

822 Passion Flower, A. A Novel., , ^ 

823 Heir of the Ages, The. By James 

Payn 20 

824 Her Own Doing. W. E. Norris 10 

825 Master Passion, The. By Flor- 

ence Marry at 20 

826 Cynic Fortune. By D. Christie 

Murray 20 

827 Effle Ogilvie. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

828 Prettiest Woman in Warsaw, 

The. By Mabel Collins 20 


829 Actor’s Ward, The. By the au- 

thor of “A Fatal Dower”... 20 

830 Bound by a Spell. Hugh Con- 

way, author of “Called Back” 20 

831 Pomegranate Seed. By the au- 

thor of “ The Two Miss Flem- 
ings,” etc -20 

832 Kidnapped. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 20 

833 Ticket No. “9672.” By Jules 

Verne. First half 10 

833 Ticket No. “9672.” By Jules 

Verne. Second half 10 

834 Ballroom Repentance, A. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

835 Vivian the Beauty. By Mrs. 

.4,iuiie Edwards 20 

836 Point of Honor, A. By Mrs. An - 

nie Edwards 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


16 


837 Vagabond Heroine, A. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 10 

838 Ought We to Visit Her? By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

839 Leah: A Woman of Fashion. 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

840 One Thing Needful; or. The 

Penalty of Fate. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

842 Bhie-Stocking, A. By Mrs. An- 

nie Edwards 10 

843 Archie Lovell. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

844 Susan Fielding. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

845 Philip Earnscliffe; or, The Mor- 

als of May Fair. By Mrs. 
Annie Edwards 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 1st half 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By ]\lk’s. 

Annie Edwards. 2d half 20 


847 Bad to Beat. By Hawley Smart 10 

848 My Friend Jim. By W. E. Norris 20 

849 Wicked Girl, A. Mary Cecil Hay 20 

850 Playwright's Daughter, A. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. First half 20 

851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobe}'. Second half 20 

852 Under Five Lakes; or. The 

Cruise of the “ Destroyer.” 

By M. Quad 20 

853 True Magdalen, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braemo, author of 
” Dora Thorne ” 20 

854 Woman’s Error, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
” Dora Thorne ” 20 

855 Dynamiter, The, By Robert 

Louis Stevenson and Fanny 
Van de Grift Stevenson 20 

856 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 

ert Louis Stevenson 20 

8.57 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 
Red House. By Mary E, 
Bryaa. First half 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. By Mary E, 
Bryan. Second half ,20 

858 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 

Idyl, and The Prince of the 100 
Soups. Bj”^ Vernon Lee 20 

860 Her Lord and Master. By Flor- 

ence Manyat 20 

861 My Sister the Actress. By Flor- 

ence Marry at 20 

862 Ugly Barrington. By “ The 

Duchess.” 10 

863 ‘‘My Own Child.” ByFloi-enee 

Marry at 30 

864 ” No Intentions.” By Florence 

Marryat ; 30 


865 'Written in Fire. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband ; or. 

Spiders of Society. By Flor- 
ence Ma rryat 20 

867 Girls of Feversham, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

868 Petronel. By Florence Marryat 20 

869 Poison of Asps, The. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 10 

870 Out of His Reckoning. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 10 

871 Bachelor’s Blunder, A. By "W. 

E. Norris 20 

872 With Cupid’s Eyes. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

873 Harvest of Wild Oats, A. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

874 House Party. A. By “ Ouida ”. 10 

875 Lady Valworth's Diamonds. By 

‘' The Duchess ” 20 

876 Mignon’s Secret. John Strange 

"Winter 10 

877 Facing the Footlights. By Flor- 

ence Marr 3 ’at 20 

878 Little Tu’penuy. ByS. Baring- 

Gould 10 

879 Touchstone of Peril, The. By 

R. E. Forrest 20 

880 Son of His Father, The. By 

IMrs. Oliphant 20 

881 Mohawks. In Tw'o Parts, each 20 

882 Children of Gibeon. By Walter 

Besant 20 

883 Once Again. By Mrs. Forrester 20 
8^ Vo.vage to the Cape, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

885 Les MisSrables. Victor Hugo. 

Part 1 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Part II 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Partin 20 

886 Pastou Carew, Millionaire and 

Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton. 20 

887 Modern Telemachus, A. By 

Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

888 Treasure Island. Robert Louis 

Stevenson 10 

889 An Inland Voyage. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 10 

890 Mistletoe Bough, The, Christ- 

mas, 1886. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

891 Vera Nevill; or. Poor Wisdom’s 

Chance. By Mrs. H. Lovett 
Cameron 20 

892 That Winter Night; or^ Love’s 

Victory. Robert Buchanan. . 10 

893 Love's Conflict. By Florence 

Marryat. First half 20 

893 Love’s Conflict. By Florence 

Marr.vat. Second half 20 

894 Doctor Cupid. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

895 Star and a Heart, A. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 10 

896 Guilty River, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 30 


16 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


897 Ange. By Florence Marryat... 20 

898 Bulldog and Butterfly, and Julia 

and Her Ronaeo, by ’David 
Christie Murray, and Romeo 
and Juliet, by William Black. 20 

899 Little Stepson, A. By Florence 

Marryat 10 

900 Woman’s Wit, By. By Mrs. Al- 

exander 20 

901 Lucky Disappointment, A. By 

Florence Marryat 10 

903 Poor Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

903 Phyllida. By Florence Marryat 20 

904 Holy Rose, The. By Walter Be- 

sant 10 

905 Fair-Haired Alda, The. By Flor- 

ence Marry at 20 

906 World Went Very Well Then, 

The. By Walter Besant 20 

907 Bright Star of Life, The. By 

B. L. Farjeon 20 

908 Willful Young Woman, A 20 

909 Nine of Hearts, The. By B. L. 

Farjeon 20 

910 She: A History of Adventure. 

By H. Rider Haggard 20 

911 Golden Bells: A Peal in Seven 

Changes. By R. E. Francillon 20 

912 Pui e Gold. By Mrs. H. Lovett 

Cameron. Two Parts, each 20 

913 Silent Shore. The. By John 

Bloundelle-Burton 20 

914 Joan Wentworth. By Katha- 

rine S. Macquoid 20 

915 That Other Person. By Mrs. 

Alfred Hunt. Two Parts, each 20 

916 Golden Hope, The. By W. Clark 

Russell. 20 

917 Case of Reuben Malachi, The. 

By H. Sutherland Edwards.. 10 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 

gobey. First half 20 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 

gobey. Second half 20 

919 Locksley Hall Sixty Years Af- 

ter, etc. By Alfred, Lord 
Tenn.vson, P.L.. D.C.L 10 

920 Child of the Revolution, A. By 

the author of “ Mademoiselle 
Mori ” 20 

921 Late Miss Hollingford, The. 

By Rosa Mulholland 10 

922 Marjorie. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme. author of “Dora 
Thorne.” 20 

287 At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

923 At War With Herself. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 

edition) 20 

934 ’Twixt Smile and Tear. Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

925 The Outsider. Hawley Smart. 20 

926 Springhaven. By R. D. Black- 

more, 1st and 2d half, each. 30 


927 Sweet Cymbeline. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 20 

294 Hilda; or, The False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme 10 

928 Hilda; or, The False Vow. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 20 

929 The Belle of Lynn; or. The 

Miller's Daughter. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 2i 

930 Uncle Max. By Rosa Nouchette 

Cai’ey. In Two Parts, each.. 20 

931 Lady Diana’s Pride. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

932 Queenie’s Whim. Rosa Nou- 

chette Carey. Two Parts^^each 20 

933 A Hidden Terror. Mary Albert 20 
9-34 Wooed and Married. Rosa Nou- 
chette Carey. 2 parts, each. . 20 

935 Borderland. Jessie Fothergill. 20 

936 Nellie’s Memories. Rosa Nou- 

chette Carey. Two Parts,each 20 

937 Cashel Byroms Profession. By 

George Bernard Shaw 20 

938 Cranford. By Mrs. Gaskell 20 

939 Why Not? Florence Marryat.. 20 

940 The.Merry Men, and Other Tales 

and Fables. By Robert Louis 
Stevenson 20 

941 Jess. By H. Rider Haggard. .. 20 

942 Cash on Delivery. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

943 Weavers and Weft; or, “ Love 

that Hath Us in His Net.” By 
Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

944 The Professor. By Charlotte 

Bront6 20 

945 The Trumpet-Major. Thomas 

Hardy 20 

946 The Dead Secret. By Wilkie 

Collins 30 

947 Publicans and Sinners; or, Lu- 

cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 
Braddon. First half 20 

947 Publicans and Sinners; or. Lu- 

cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 
Braddon. Second half 20 

293 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

948 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne.” (Large type 
edition) 20 

949 Claribel’s Love Story; or. 

Love’s Hidden Depths. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey. By “ The Duch- 
ess.” (Large type edition)... 30 

950 Mrs. Geoffrey. “ The Duchess ” 10 
459 Woman’s Temptation, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


17 


951 Woman's Temptation, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 

29i Woman’s War, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 

952 Woman’s War, A. ByCliarlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne.” (Large type edition) 

297 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 
riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, autlior of ” Dora 

Thorne ” 

96* Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 
riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne.” (Large type edition) 

954 A Girl’s Heart. By the author 

of “ Nobody’s Darling” 

2S8 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of ” Dora Thorne ” 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 

From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of ‘‘Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 

956 Her Johnnie. By Violet Whyte 

957 The Woodlanders. By Thomas 

Hardy 

958 A Haunted Life; or. Her Terri- 

ble Sin. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of ‘‘ Dora Thorne ”... 

959 Dawn. By H. Rider Haggard. 

960 Elizabeth’s Fortune.. By Bertha 

Thomas 

961 Wee Wifie. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey 

902 Sabina Zembra. By William 
Black. First half ;;•.•••• 

962 Sabina Zembra. By William 

Black. Second half 

963 Worth , Winning. By Mrs. H. 

Lovet't Cameron 

964 A Struggle for the Right; or. 

Tracking the Truth 

905 Periwinkle. By Arnold Gr ray. . 

966 He, by the author of “King 
, Solomon’s Wives ” ; and A 

Siege Baby and Childhood’s 
Memories, by J. S. Winter — 
237 Repeated at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne.” (Large type 
edition) 

967 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 

968 Blossom and Fruit; or, Ma- 

dame’s Ward. By the author 
of “ Wedded Hands ” 

969 The Mystery of Colde Fell ; or. 

Not Proven. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme. author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 


970 King Solomon’s W'ives; or. The 

Phantom Mines. By Hyder 
Ragged. (Illustrated) 20 

971 Garrison Gossip: Gathered in 

Biankhampton. By John 
Strange Winter 20 

972 Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt 20 

973 The Squire’s Darling. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

974 Strathmore; or, Wrought by 

His Own Hand. By “ Ouida.” 

First half 20 

974 Strathmore: or. Wrought b 3 ' 
His Own Hand. By “ Ouida.” 

Second half 20 

97'5 A Dark Marriage Morn. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne” 20 

976 Robur the Conqueror; or, A 

Trip Round the World in a 
Flying Machine. Jules Verne 20 

977 The Haunted Hotel. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

978 Her Second Love, 'By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

979 The Count’s Secret. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Parti 20 

979 The Count’s Secret. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Part II 20 

980 To Call Her Mine. By Walter 

Besant 20 

981 Granville deVigne; or, Held in 

Bondage. By “Ouida.” 1st 
half 20 

981 Granville deVigne; or. Held in 

Bondage. By “ Ouida,” 2d ’ 
half 20 

982 The Duke’s Secret. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

983 Uarda. A Romance of Ancient 

Egypt. By George Ebers 20 

984 Her Own Sister. By E. S. 

Williamson 20 


985 On Her Wedding Morn, and 
The Mystery of the Holly- 


Tree. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

986 The Great Hesper. By Frank 

Barrett 20 

987 Brenda Yorke, and Upon the 

Waters, By Mary Cecil Hay. 20 

988 The Shattered Idol, and Letty 

Leigh, Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ’’ . . . 20 

989 Allan Quatermain. By' H. Rider 

Haggard 20 

990 The Earl’s Error, and Arnold’s 

Promise. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne”., 20 

991 Mr. Midshipman Easy. By Cap- 

tain Marry at 20 

992 Marrying and Giving in Mar- 

riage. By Mrs. Moleswbrth... 20 

993 Fighting the Air. By Florence 

Marry at.,, 20 


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10 

20 

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20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 




8 THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 


994 A Penniless Orphan. By W. 

Heimburp: 20 

905 An Unnatural Bondage, and 
That Beautiful Lady. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne” 20 

996 Idalia. By “ Ouida,” 1st half. 20 

996 Idalia. By “Ouida.” 2d half. 20 

997 Forging the Fetters, and The 

Australian Aunt. By Mrs. 
Alexander 20 

998 Open, Sesame I By Florence 

Marryat 20 

999 The Second Wife. E. Marlitt. 20 
1000 Puck. By “ Ouida.” 1st half 20 

1000 Piick. By “ Ouida.” 2d half. 20 

1001 Ladj’^ Adelaide’s Oath; or. The 

Castle s Heir. By Mrs. Henry 
Wood 20 

1002 Marriage at a Venture. By 

Emile Gaborian 20 

1003 Chandos. By “Ouida.” 1st 

half 20 

1003 Chandos. By “ Ouida.” 2d 

half 20 

1004 Mad Dumaresq. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

1005 99 Dark Street. F.W. Robinson 20 

1006 His Wife’s Judgment. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

1007 Miss Gascoigne. By Mrs. J. 

H. Riddell 20 

1003 A Thorn in Her Heart. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne” 20 

1009 In an Evil Hour, and Other 

Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 20 

1010 Golden Gates. By . Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

1011 Texar’s Vengeance; or, North 

Versus South. Jules Verne. 
Part 1 20 

1011 Texar’s Vengeance ; or, North 

Versus South. By Jules Verne 
Part II 20 

1012 A Nameless Sin. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

1018 The Confessions of Gerald 
Estcourt. Florence Marryat. 20 

1014 A Mad Love. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

1015 A Thousand Francs Reward. 

By Emile Gaboriau 20 

1016 A Modern Circe. By “ The 

Duchess” 20 

1017 Tricntrin. TheStory of a Waif 

and Stray. “Ouida.” 1st half 20 

1017 Tricotrin. TheStory of a Waif 

and Stray. “Ouida.” 2d half 20 

1018 Two Marriages. By Miss Mu- 

lock 20 

1019 Major and Minor. By W. E, 

Norris, 1st half 20 

1019 Major and Minor. By W. E. 
jf^orris. 2(^ hfilf 20 


1020 Michael Strogoff; or. The Cou- 

rier of the Czar. Jules Verne 30 

1021 The Heir to Ashley, and The 

Red -Court Farm. By Mrs. 
Henry Wood 20 

1022 Driven to Bay. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

1023 Next of Kin— Wanted. By M. 

Betham-Edvvards 20 

1024 Under the Storm; or. Stead- 

fast’s Charge. By Charlotte 
M. Yonge 20 

1025 Daisy’s Dilemma. By Mi*s. H. 

Lovett Cameron 20 

1026 A Dark Inheritance. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

1027 A Life’s Secret. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood 20 

1028 A Devout Lover; or, A Wasted 

Love. By Mrs. H. Lovett Cam- 
eron 20 

1029 Armadale. By Wilkie Collins. 

1st half 20 

1029 Armadale. By Wilkie Collins. 

2d half 20 

1030 The Jlistress of Ibichstein. By 

Fr. Henkel 30 

1031 Irene’s Vow. By Charlotte M, 

Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

1032 Mignon’s Hiisband. By John 

Strange Winter 20 

1033 Esther: A Story for Girls, By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

1034 The Silence of Dean Maitland. 

By Maxwell Gray 20 

1035 The Duchess. By “TheDuch- 

6SS " 20 

1036 Like and Unlike. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

1037 Scheherazade: A London 

Night's Entertainment. By 
Florence Warden 20 

1038 Mistress and Maid. By Miss 

Mulock 20 

1039 Driver Dallas. By John Strange 

Winter 10 

1040 Clarissa’s Ordeal. By the au- 

thor of “A Great Mistake.” 
First half 20 

1040 Clarissa’s Ordeal. By the au- 

thor of “ A Great Mistake.” 
Second half 20 

1041 Home Again, By George Mac- 

donald 20 

1042 l.ady Grace. Mrs Henry Wood 20 

1043 Faust. By Goethe 20 

1044 The Frozen Pirate. By W, 

Clark Russell 20 

1045 The 13th Hussars. By Emile 

Gaboriau 20 

1046 Jessie. By the author of “ Ad- 

die’s HusV)and ” 20 

1047 Marvel. By “The Duchess”.. 30 
1043 The Wreck of the “Grosvenor.” 

By AV. Clark Rus.sell 20 

1049 A Tale of Three Lions, and On 
Going Back. H- Bider Haggard 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


19 


1050 The Tour of the World in 80 

Days. By Jules Verne 20 

1051 The Misadventures of John 

Nicholson. By Eobert Louis 
Stevenson 10 

1052 Siprna’s Sweetheart. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

1053 Younp Mrs. Jardine. By Miss 

Mulock 20 

1054 Mona’s Choice. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 

1055 Katharine Regina. By Walter 

• • 20 

1056 The Bride of the Nile. By 

George Ebers. 1st half 20 

1056 The Bride of the Nile. By 

George Ebers. 2d half 20 

1057 A Life Interest. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 


1058 Masaniello ; or, The Fisherman 

of Naples. Alexander Dumas 20 

1059 Confessions of an English Opi- 

um-Eater, and The English 
Mail-Coach. By Thomas De 
Quincey 20 

1060 The Lady of the Lake. By Sir 

Walter Scott, Bart 20 

1061 A Queer Race : The Story of a 

Strange People. By William 
Westall - 20 

1062 The Deerslayer; or, The First 

War-Path. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper. First half .. 20 

1062 The Deerslayer; or. The First 

War-Path. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper. Second Half 20 

1063 Kenilworth. By Sir Walter 

Scott, Bart. First half 20 

1063 Kenilworth. By Si»* er 

Scott, Bart. Secor . . 20 

1064 Only the Governess 

Nouchette Carey . . . 20 

1065 Herr Paulus: His Rise xiis 

-Greatness, and His Fall. By 
Walter Besant 20 

1066 My Husband and I. By Count 

Lyof Tolstoi 10 

1067 Saint Michael. By E. Werner. 

First half ’ 20 

1067 Saint Michael. By E. Werner. 

Second half 20 

1068 Vendetta! or. The Story of One 

Forgotten. By Marie Corelli. 20 

1069 Polikouchka. By Count Lyof 

Tolstoi 10 

1070 A Life’s Mistake. By Mrs. H. 

Lovett Cameron 20 

1071 The Death of Ivan Iliitch. By 

Count Lyof Tolstoi 10 

1072 Only a Coral Girl. By Gertrude 

Forde 20 

1073 Two Generations. By Count 

Lyof Tolstoi 10 

1074 Stormy Waters. By Robert 

Buchanan 20 

1076 The Mystery of a Hansom Cab. 

By Fergus W. Hume 20 


1076 The Mystery of an Omnibus. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 20 

1077 The Nun’s Curse. By Mrs. J. 

H. Riddell 20 

1078 The Slaves of Paris— Blackmail 

By Emile Gaboriau. 1st half.. 20 

1078 The Slaves of Paris. — The 

Champdoce Secret. By Emile 
Gaboriau. 2d half 20 

1079 Beautiful Jim: of the Blank- 

shire Regiment. By John 
Strange Winter 20 

1080 Bertha’s Secret. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

1080 Bertha’s Secret. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

1081 Too Curious. By Edward J. 

Goodman 20 

1082 The Severed Hand. By F. Du 

Boisgobe}'. 1st half 20 

1082 The Severed Hand. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

1083 The Little Old Man of the Bat- 

ignolles. By Emile Gaboriau 10 

1084 Chris. By W. E. Norris 20 

1085 The Matapan Affair. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. Ist half 20 

1085 The Matapan Affair. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

1086 Nora. By Carl Detlef 20 

1087 A Woman’s Face; or, A Lake- 

land Mystery. By F. Warden 20 

1088 The Old Age of Monsieur Le- 

coq. By F. Du Boisgobey. 1st 

OQ 

1088 The Old Age of Monsieur Le- 

coq. By F. Du Boisgobey. 2d 
half 20 

1089 Home Sounds. By E. Werner 20 

1090 The Cossacks. By Cqunt Lyof 

Tolstoi 20 

1091 A Modern Cinderella. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 10 

1092 A Glorious Gallop. By Mrs. 

Edward Kennard 20 

1093 In the Schillingscourt. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

1094 Homo Sum. By George Ebers. 20 

1095 The Legacy of Cain. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

1096 The Strange Adventures of a 

House-Boat. William Black 20 

1097 The Burgomaster’s Wife. By 

George Ebers 20 

1098 The Fatal Three. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

1099 The Lasses of Leverhouse. By 

Jessie Fothergill 20 

1100 Mr. Meeson’s Will. By H Rider 

Haggard 20 

1101 An Egyptian Princess. Vol. I. 

By George Ebei-s 20 

1101 An Egyptian Princess. Vol. II. 

By George Ebers 20 

1102 Young Mr. Barter’s Repent- 

ance. By David Christie Mur- 


1103 The Honorable Mrs. Vereker. 

By “The Duchess'* 80 


^0 


THE SEASIDE LXBKAHA‘— Pooket Edition. 


1104 The Heir of Linue. By Rob- 

ert Buchanan 20 

1105 Mai vva’s Revenge. By H. Ruler 

Haggard 20 

1106 The Emperor. By George 

Ebers 20 

1107 The Passenger from Scotland 

Yard. By H. F. Wood 20 

1108 Sebastopol. By Count Lyof 

Tolstoi 20 

1109 Through the Long Nights. By 

Mrs. E. Lynn Linton. 1st half 20 


1109 Through the Long Nights. By 

Mrs. E. Lynn Linton. 2d half 20 

1110 The Silverado Squatters. By 


Robert Louis Steveiison 10 

nil In the Counselor’s House. By 
E. Marlitt 20 

1112 Only a Word. By George 

Ebers 20 

1113 The Bailiff’s Maid. By E. Mar- 

litt 20 

1114 The Sisters. By George Ebers . 20 

1115 The Countess Gisela. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

1116 Robert Klsmere. By Mrs. Hum- 

pliry Ward. 1st half 20 

1116 Robert Elsmere. By Mrs. Hum- 

phry Ward. 2d half 20 

1117 Princess Sarah. By John S. 

Winter 10 

1118 The Elect Lady. By George 

Blacdonald 20 

1119 No Name. By Wilkie Collins. 

First half 20 

1119 No Name. By Wilkie Collins. 

Second half 20 

1120 The Story of an African Farm. 

By Ralph Iron (Olive Schrei- 
ner) 20 

1121 Booties’ Children. By John 

Strange Winter. 10 

1122 Eve. By S. Baring-Gould 20 

1123 Under - Currents. By “ The 

1124 Diana Barrington. By B. M. 

Croker 20 

1125 The Mvstery of a Turkish Bath. 

By “Rita” 10 

1126 Gentleman and Courtier. By 

Florence Marry at 20 

11^ Madam Midas. By Fergus W. 
Hume 20 

1128 Cousin Pons. By Honor6 De 

Balzac 20 

1129 The Flying Dutchman : or, Tlie 

Death Ship. By W. Clark 
Russell 20 

1130 TTie Owl-House. By E. Marlitt 20 

1131 Thelma. By Marie Corelli. 

First half 20 

1181 Thelma. By Marie Corelli. 
Second half 20 

1132 In Far Lochaber. By William 

Black 20 

1183 Our New Mistress; or, Changes 
at Brookfield Earl. By Char- 
lotte M. Yonge 20 


1134 Lord Elesmere’s Wife. By 

Charlotte M. Braenie. 1st half 20 

1134 Lord Elesmere’s Wife. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme. 2d half 20 

1135 Aunt Diana. By Rosa Nou- 

’ chette Carey 20 

1136 The Princess of the Moor. By 

E. Marlitt 20 

1137 Prince Charming. By the au- 
thor of “ A Gi’eat Mistake ” . . 20 

1138 A Recoiling Vengeance. By 

Frank Barrett 20 

1139 Tom Brou n at Oxford. By 

Thomas Hughes. Vol. I 20 

1139 Tom Browu at Oxford. By 

Thomas Hughes. Vol. II .20 

1140 Colonel Quaritch, V. C. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

1141 The Rogue. By W. E. Norris. 

First half 20 

1141 'I'lie Rogue. By W. E. Norris. 

Second half 20 

1142 Ten Thousand a Year. By 

Samuel Wai ren. Parr 1 20 

1142 Ten Thousand a Year. B}' 

Samuel Warren. Part H 20 

1142 Ten Thousand a Y^ear. By 

Samuel Warren. Part HI,. . . 20 

1143 The Inner House. ■' By Walter 

1144 Rienzi. By Sir E. Bulwer Lyt- 

ton. 1st half 20 

1144 Rienzi. By Sir E. Bulwer Lyt- 

ton. 2d half 20 

1145 My Fellow Laborer, and The 

Wreck of the “ Copeland.” 

By H. Rider Haggard 20 

1146 Rhoda Fleming. By George 

Meredith. 1st half. 26'' 

1146 Rhoda Fleming. By George 

Meredith. 2d half.-. 20 

1147 Knight-Errant. ByEdnaLyall. 

1st half * 20 

1147 Knight-Errant. ByEdnaLyall. 

2d half ! 20 

1148 The Countess Eve. By J. H. 

Shorthouse 20 

1149 Donovan: A Modern English- 

man. By Edna Lyall. 1st half 20 

1149 Donovan; A Modern English- 

man. By Edna Lyall. 2d half 20 

1150 The Egoist. By George Mere- 

dith. 1st half 20 

1150 The Egoist. By George Mere- 

dith. 2d half 20 

1151 For Faith and Freedom. By 

Walter Besant. 1st half 20 

1151 For Faith and Freedom. By 

Walter Besant. 2d half 20 

1152 From the Earth to the Moon. 

By Jules Verne. Illustrated. 20 

1153 Round the Moon. By Jules 

Verne. Illustrated 20 

1154 A Judgment of God. By E. 

Werner 20 

1155 Lured Away; or. The Story of 

a Wedding - Ring, and The 
Hein^ of Arne. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme 20 


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Always IJiicliaiigetl and IJiiabridg'ed. 

WITH HANDSOME LITHOGRAPHED PAPER COVER. 

LATEST ISSUES: 


NO. PRICK. 

669 Pole on Whist 20 

432 THE WITCH’S HEAD. By 

H. Rider Haggrard 20 

1135 Aunt Diana. By Rosa Nou- 

chette Carey 20 

1186 The Princess of the Moor. By 
E. Marlitt 20 

1137 Prince Charming. By the au- 
thor of “ A Great Mistake ”. . 20 

1138 A Recoiling Vengeance. By 

Frank Barrett. . . ; 20 

1139 Tom Brown at Oxford. By 

Thomas Hughes. Vol. I 20 

1139 Tom Brown at Oxford. By 

Thomas Hughes. Vol. II 20 

1140 Colonel Quaritch, V. C. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

1141 The Rogue. By W. E. Norris. 

First half 20 

1141 The Rogue. By W. E. Norris. 


OCUVUU IJCtlJ. 

1142 Ten Thousand a Year. By 

Samuel Warren. Part 1 20 

1142 Ten Thousand a Year. By 
Samuel Warren. Part II 20 

1142 Ten Thousand a Year. By 

Samuel Warren. Part III... 20 

1143 The Inner House. By Walter 

Besant 20 

1144 Rienzi. By Sir E. Bulwer Lyt- 

ton. 1st half 20 

1144 Rienzi. By Sir E. Bulwer Lyt- 

ton. 2d half 20 

1145 My Fellow Laborer, and The 

Wreck of the “ Copeland.” 

By H. Rider Haggard 20 

1146 Rhoda Fleming. . By George 

Meredith. 1st half 20 

1146 Rhoda Fleming. By George 

Meredith. 2d half 20 

1147 Knight-Errant. ByEdnaLyall. 

1st half 20 

1147 Knight-Errant. ByEdnaLyall. 

2d half 20 

1148 The Countess Eve. By J. H. 

Shorthouse 20 


1149 Donovan: A Modern English- 
man. By Edna Lyall. 1st half 20 

1149 Donovan: A Modern English- 
man. By Edna Lyall. 2d half 20 

1150 The Egoist. By George Mere- 
dith. 1st half 20 


NO. PRICE. 

1150 The Egoist. By George Mere- 

dith. 2d half 20 

1151 For Faith and Freedom. By 

Walter Besant. 1st half 20 

1151 For Faith and Freedom. By 

Walter Besant. 2d half 20 

1152 From the Earth to the Moon. 

By Jules Verne. Illustrated. 20 

1153 Round the Moon. By Jules 

Verne. Illustrated 20 

1154 A Judgment of God. By E. 

Werner 20 

1155 Lured Away; or. The Story of 

a Wedding - Ring, and The 
Heiress of Arne. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme 20 

1156 A Witch of the Hills. By Flor- 

ence Warden 20 

1157 A Two Years’ Vacation. Illus- 

' trated. By Jules Verne 20 

1158 My Poor Dick. By J. S. Winter. 10 

1159 Mr. Fortescue. An Andean 

Romance. By Wm. Westall. 20 

1160 We Two. By Edna Lyall. 1st 


half 20 

1160 We Two, By Edna Lyall. 2d 

half 20 

1161 Red Ryvington. By William 

Westall, 1st half 20 

1161 Red Ryvington. By William 

Westall. 2d half 20 

1162 The Weaker Vessel. By David,. 

Christie Murray 20 

1163 The Phantom City . A Volcanic 

Romance. By Wm. Westall. 20 

1164 Rob Roy. By Sir Walter Scott, 

Bart. 1st half 20 

1164 Rob Roy. By Sir Walter Scott, 

Bart. 2d half 20 

1165 The Sea-King. By Captain 

Marryat 20 

1168 The Flight to France; or. The 

Memoirs of a Dragoon. A 
Tale of the Day of Dumouriez, 

By Jules Verne 20 

1169 Commodore Junk. ByG. Man- 

ville Fenn 20 

1173 Won by Waiting. By Edna 

Lyall 20 

1176 Guilderoy. By “Ouida” 20 


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